


Paint My Spirit Gold

by Red_City



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Arguing, Boys Kissing, Cursed Derek, Emotional Conversations, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hale Family Feels, Happy Ending, Laura is a good sister, M/M, Magic, Magic Claudia Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Midas, Minor Character Death, Older Stiles Stilinski, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Prince Derek, Prophetic Visions, Resolved Sexual Tension, Royalty, Sex, Slow Burn, Sort-of Kate Argent Warning, Temporary Character Death, They finally talk about feelings, Touch-Starved, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Virgin!Derek, Younger Derek, hell yeah, like literally so much angst, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 84,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_City/pseuds/Red_City
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>There was a gift.</b>
</p><p><b></b><br/>There was a curse. </p><p>There is a power in the house of Hale, given to the firstborn son of every generation - the ability to turn everything he touches to gold. Though the original intent of the power was thought of as a gift, in reality, it is a dreaded curse that causes the bearer a life of fear, isolation, and danger. </p><p>Thus, Prince Derek is born.</p><p>---</p><p>[Excerpt from Chapter 22]</p><p>He didn’t think much of his hands, or any part of his body, really - but Stiles gaze had lingered enough to make Derek wonder what Stiles’ thought. Now, Stiles honey eyes were fixated on Derek’s hands, running over them like they were something precious rather than tools of death. </p><p>“Hmm.” </p><p>“What.” </p><p>“Nothing, I just - I thought they wouldn’t look like normal hands.”</p><p>“Why.” </p><p>“Because they’re magic,” Stiles said, looking up to meet Derek’s eyes. </p><p>“They’re not magic, they’re cursed,” Derek said, tucking his hands back into the sheet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prince

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY, so this was literally just an off-the-cuff idea I had and texted to wondrousstrangesnow one night that spitballed into something HUGE. I have found my muse. I wrote 5k in one day, guys. This is serious. 
> 
> Thanks to wondrousstrangesnow, lingeringwanderer and as always, apollonjoras for their help on logic, grammar, syntax, and general yelling ideas at each other over text - they continue to be my greatest support and amazing friends.
> 
> Also, it's kind of crazy how well "I Will Wait" by Mumford and Sons reflects this fic. The title is taken from that song.

[Prologue]

Some say it was a gift. 

Others say it was a curse. 

Hundreds of years prior, a king - Midas - had prayed to the gods for the ability to turn everything he touched to gold - a gift.

But as he tested his gift, his ability, his prayer against the world around him, he realized his mistake. He could no longer eat or drink or play music; he could not love his wife, or care for his children. He starved and withered and died - a curse. 

What the legends don’t tell is that the prayer had been both for Midas and his son - and his son after that - going down the line hundreds of years and generations, bequeathing the gift upon every first born son like a double-edged sword. 

The family found ways to conceal it - found ways to counteract it, live with the curse. Gloves made of gold were forced upon children’s hands and worn until long after death. The princes were hidden in the castle walls, with secret rooms and a single guard, living their whole life isolated. 

The surname of the curse, thus, was changed often, the bloodline thickening with daughters that didn’t possess the deadly ability. Midas’ name faded into legend, and the curse was thought a myth. 

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

[Chapter 1]

Talia Hale screamed in agony, sweat pouring from her spent body and blood pooling on the sheets beneath her. 

“Push, your majesty. The child is crowning! PUSH!” 

Talia glared heatedly at the midwife, her close friend, who smiled back cheekily, if a little forced. Deaton, the court’s mage, sat silent in the corner, reading calmly as if nothing significant was happening around him. 

“Honey, my hand -”

“Shut up, Richard. Are YOU pushing another person out of your body? NO.”

Richard Hale promptly resumed his silence. 

One of the servant girls tittered with laughter at the king’s terrified face, his hand turning purple in his wife’s grip. 

“PUSH, Talia!”

“I AM PUSHING, CLAUDIA!”

“GOOD! Maybe this baby will be born this century!”

Talia laughed, despite herself, and rallied herself once more to push. Claudia laughed too, delighted, and then, finally, held up the baby, covered in blood, and wailing in anguish. Talia fell back, sighing in relief when she took in the sight of her child for the first time.

Then a chill ran through her. 

“Claudia, CLAUDIA, NO -” She started yelling as she struggled toward her friend. “NO, PLEASE -”

“What?! WHAT?!”

“PUT HIM DOWN!”

“Talia, what are you - “

And then Deaton swooped in and wrapped the child up in a golden cloth, holding it gingerly against his chest, the cloth a protective barrier between them. The baby was still crying.

“Deaton, why - “

“Claudia, did you use the spell I told you to? Before you touched him? Did you initiate the spell?” He asked, calmly as ever. Claudia remembered his strange insistence that she protect herself, even though she had SEEN a girl in her vision. She knew it was a girl, so what was the problem? Deaton had argued her safety and Claudia had given in, half-heartedly chanting over herself before the birth.

Talia again gripped her husband’s hand, chest heaving, but in fear rather than pain. 

Claudia looked down at the child with wide eyes, and then at her own hands. “Yes, I did.” Cold understanding dawned on her. “It’s a boy,” she said, and took a step backwards. 

“Yes, it is,” Deaton replied, and Talia let out a sob, falling back onto the bed. 

Deaton carefully set the crying infant onto the table where he had been sitting. The cloth fell open as the mage rifled around in his bag, searching for something. 

In amazement, Claudia watched as the baby kicked and flailed, reminding her of her son at home, not quite five years old. Prince Hale let out a long wail and his tiny hand came in contact with the table underneath him. The spot where he touched it shimmered, and then the surface started to change - the wooden slats melted away, leaving smooth gold in it’s wake. 

Claudia glanced back at her king and queen, her greatest friend, Talia, sobbing at the ceiling and Richard holding her hands, speaking low to his wife. 

Deaton’s hands reappeared, clad in thick gloves, smelling of magic and coated in gold, and he lifted the child from the table, using a bowl of water to clean the boy off. The crying subsided, if only slightly, and a head of soft hair appeared as the blood was washed away. Claudia tended to Talia, sopping up the blood and helping her stand so the servant girls could change the damp sheets, blood and sweat in equal measure staining them. The room was somber and quiet, after being filled with so much noise and anticipation. 

The child was clean, and wrapped again up in the golden cloth, hands bound in more gold, magic thick around him. Deaton handed the child to his mother, Talia’s face wary and her eyes watery. 

“My love. I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to hold the tears in. Richard took the baby from her, careful to avoid skin contact, and rocked him back and forth as Talia wept for her son. Her third child, her first son, doomed to a life devoid of touch and exile. 

The Midas touch. A gift. A curse.

“You’re sure you used the spell correctly? If even a moment was wrong, the effects will wear off and you will turn to gold much like that table and bowl. The curse will -”

“I’m sure,” Claudia interrupted Deaton, silencing him with a look. Deaton raised an eyebrow, and Claudia repeated herself. “I’m sure.”

She sat on the edge of Talia’s bed, silent, clinging to her queen’s hand as she sobbed, unable to speak comfort. She stayed until the sun had fallen behind the horizon and the new mother slept, tear stains painted down her cheeks. 

The child was asleep in the corner, wrapped up in the golden fabric that would keep those who held him from turning to gold. Claudia had listened in as Deaton explained that he could enchant fabrics for the boy to wear, gloves for him to keep, that would allow him to live with some semblance of normalcy. It would take time, and power, but Deaton would do it. 

Claudia looked down at Prince Derek, her heart aching for him, and rubbed her hands together in worry, the weight of dread filling her belly. She hadn’t taken the time she should have - she was so sure the baby was going to be a girl -

She isn’t sure.


	2. The Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudia tucked into bed next to her husband, and kissed her own little one on his forehead, who was mumbling in his sleep as usual. She sighed of happiness, content with the vision that her queen was not having a boy, but having a another queen, and again the curse had been defeated. 
> 
> She was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM WEAK.  
> I was going to wait a whole week to post Chapter 2 but I couldn't. So. Here. 
> 
> I PROMISE THAT /EVENTUALLY/ THERE IS MORE THAN JUST ANGST. A little. Sort of.  
> Just. I'm sorry and NOT SORRY AT ALL.

The baby was supposed to be a girl. 

Claudia, after years of training, could see glimpses of the future with her spark. Most of the time it just left her with an amazing sense of deja vu, and the ability to guess what people were about to say. 

But sometimes she saw things of magnitude. 

Months earlier she found herself knocking at the door of the royal chamber, the guard eyeing her curiously but not stopping her as she whispered, “Talia!! Talia, open up!” Everyone in the kingdom knew of their unusual friendship, struck up in childhood, and their respective husbands had come to learn that there were no boundaries between their wives. 

“Talia!” She called again, knocking turning to pounding. 

The door swung open to reveal the king, hair disheveled, chest bare. 

“Oh for Godssakes, Richard, put on a shirt,” Claudia said, pushing past him into the dark room. She didn’t see the resigned look of annoyance exchanged between the guard and the king before he closed the door behind her. 

“Talia!” Claudia said again, leaping on the bed. “TaliaTaliaTalia!”

“What?” Came the muffled response, the queen laid with a pillow over her head, hand on her steadily growing belly, more than halfway to birth. 

“I saw her. Your baby.”

“Great.”

Claudia let a moment of silence pass for her words to sink in.

Talia shot up, the pillow dropping to the floor. Richard sighed as he picked it up. 

“Wait, wait, HER? HER? As in a GIRL? A baby girl, you’re sure?”

“Yes!” Claudia squealed, and then the two women shrieked and embraced like they were 14 again. 

“A baby GIRL. Thank God. A girl. Richard, did you hear?” Talia asked her husband as she pulled away, both hands on her belly now, alongside Claudia’s. 

“I don’t think anyone in the castle DIDN’T hear that, my love.”

“Oh pish posh!” Claudia tossed a pillow at him. “Spoil sport! You know this is the greatest news ever!”

“Yes, yes, now get out of my room!” He said, looking annoyed but sounding fond. 

“Fine, fine, go back to sleep or whatever you two do,” Claudia said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

“Claudia,” Richard growled, and Talia laughed because she could tell he was blushing even in the dark. 

“Fine!” Claudia said again, cackling as she pranced out of the room. 

She tucked into bed next to her husband, and kissed her own little one on his forehead, who was mumbling in his sleep as usual. She sighed of happiness, content to know that her queen was not having a boy, but having a another queen, and again the curse had been defeated. 

She was wrong.

 

\-----

[present]

Stiles likes the Great Hall the best. 

Momma brought him to the castle sometimes when she had to work, and today she left him with one of the other nurses because the queen was going to have her baby. Stiles didn’t know how she was going to turn the lump in her belly into a baby, but his momma has magic and she can do anything. 

The Great Hall, where Stiles is playing, was the biggest room in the world. The curtains all over the walls had people on the them and Stiles liked to hide behind them until Melissa began to sing his favorite songs so he would come out and give her a hug. He brought with him the horse and knight that his dad made him, with straw for hair and everything. They were the coolest toys in the world. 

“Stiles!” He heard, his momma’s voice. She sounded worried. “Where are you?”

Stiles made his best horse noise instead of answering. 

Momma found him and picked him up, holding him close. He squirmed in her arms because his horse was still all alone on the ground. 

“Momma!” He whined, trying to get down. 

“Sorry honey, here,” she said, and released him. He forgot all about the toys when he saw the tears on his Momma’s face.

“Momma, are you crying? Why?” He asked, rubbing at the water like he could erase the tears with his touch. 

‘Nothing, sweetheart. Let’s go home, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles said, absentmindedly clutching his toys to his chest as he took his momma’s hand and followed her out of the Hall. 

“Is Daddy going to be home tonight?”

“No, he has to work, remember?”

“Oh,” Stiles sighed. Then he perked up. “Does that mean we get to eat the cow?”

His momma laughed at him, and nodded. Stiles hopped excitedly, and grinned all the way through their front door. Cow nights were the best nights in the world. 

Momma was acting strange at supper - she moved really slowly like she was playing their game where they get stuck in molasses, and was making bad faces. Stiles asked her what’s wrong, but she shushed him and sent him to bed with a kiss. 

He woke trembling in the middle of the night. “Momma?” He called. He tried to forget the shadows of his nightmare, the deep pool of water and the dark eyes watching him. It was the scariest dream in the world.

“Momma!” He called again, louder when she didn’t answer.

Stiles wiped at his eyes and climbed from of bed. He ran as fast as he could into his parent’s room, climbing up next to his momma in bed. 

“Momma?” he whispered, and then screamed as he pulled the sheet away.

His momma’s face was peaceful, eyes open and lips parted, but instead of her usual warm pink color, her face was shiny and gold. Her hair was gold too, and as Stiles slowly pulled the blanket away, he realized that her clothes were gold, her hands were gold, all the way down to her feet - gold. 

This is a game, Stiles realized. 

“Momma. Why are you playing? Where are you?”

He climbed over the golden statue that looked like his mother, searching the bed for her. Under the bed, into the closet, he looked for her, even opening the chest of drawers he wasn’t supposed to look inside without permission. 

“Momma! Why are you hiding?” 

Stiles went back to the golden woman in his mother’s bed. She looks just like her, it was almost scary. Stiles reached out a hand and traced the curve of her cheek just like he had earlier that evening. 

Then he ran out of the room and started searching the house. 

Something twisted and scary filled up his chest as he searched each room, not finding his momma. “She must have hidden really good this time,” he said to himself, frowning, because usually Stiles is the winner when they play hide-and-seek. 

“Momma!” He started yelling, hours later, when he still couldn’t find her and the the golden woman in the next room had turned from fascinating to terrifying, her lifeless eyes almost staring into his as he passed the door over and over on his search. He started to cry. “Momma!” He screamed, ripping the blankets off the bed and pushing with all his strength until the golden woman fell, clanging against the floorboards, metal creaking. Stiles paused in his panic, peering over the edge of the bed.

The golden woman was lying on the floor, in pieces, her arm and head disconnected from the rest of her, open eyes staring blindly at the thatch roof. His momma’s eyes. Stiles screamed, and screamed again, crying, and then he couldn’t breathe and everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos/comments are loved and cherished. 
> 
> red--city.tumblr.com


	3. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John couldn’t shake the image of coming home, his son passed out on his bed, and the broken body of his wife on the floor, turned gold by the new heir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short in-between; a follow up to Chapter 2.

The funeral was short, but Captain Stilinski barely made it through. His son was silent for the first time since he had learned to talk - the kid even mumbled in his sleep - and that was almost affecting him more than his wife’s death. 

His wife’s death, that should have been impossible. 

John wasn’t a naïve man, no. He knew about magic and curses, hell, his wife was a spark - 

Or. She had been a spark.

\- but he still hadn’t known that the rumors were based on anything but wild fantasy. That the Hale line was terribly cursed, and that was why the title was passed down through the women, rather than the typical male lineage. He assumed it was because the Hales had realized that women were just as capable, if not more so, than men, and left it at that. That was still true of course, curse or not. 

He couldn’t shake the image of coming home, his son passed out on his bed, and the broken body of his wife on the floor, turned gold by the new heir. He hadn’t figured it out immediately, tending first to Stiles, but had gone to Deaton in his panic and seen the hardened truth of it in his eyes. 

Claudia had been turned to gold by the curse, broken into pieces, and was gone from his life. 

It felt like an alternate reality. 

The funeral took place on a sunny day, that Claudia would have loved, and practically the whole kingdom came out for it - she had been beloved wide and far. The royal family was also in attendance, despite the queen’s recent birthing, and John held tight to her and Richard when they offered their embraces. The four of them had grown close - closer than most royalty would get to their nurse and captain of the guard. 

Stiles remained quiet through the whole thing, not even speaking when Melissa approached him with her son, Scott, whom Stiles had taken a shining to. John just shrugged, not able to get Stiles to speak to him either. The little boy watched the flames lick the air, somber brown eyes lined with far too much grief for his young age. 

Her body of gold melted into the earth and they covered up the pyre, coated with golden ashes, with the dirt and leaves of the forest to hide it from the townspeople.

When they got back to the house, too quiet without Claudia singing snippets of song as she went about, Stiles tapped his father on the leg. John was sitting in his wooden chair, staring at the empty one across from him. 

“Dad?” Stiles asked. Something inside John’s chest tightened - it was the first time he had heard his son refer to him as something other than a fond (or exasperated), ‘Daddy.’

John patted his knee, indicated Stiles should climb up. 

Stiles hesitated, which again was new. 

“Stiles, son, what is it?”

His son looked up at him with big, warm eyes, so reminiscent of Claudia that John felt his own eyes fill up with tears again, threatening to spill. 

“Dad, did I kill momma?”

The tears spilled over. 

“Oh, son, no, no, Stiles, don’t - please don’t -” he said, stuttering as he scooped his little boy up and clung to him, tears from both their eyes dampening his good jacket and Stiles’ formal shirt.

“It wasn’t your fault, son, don’t even think it. No, no, no. It wasn’t your fault.”

They sat like that for a long time, long after the fire in the hearth had died out. 

 

\----

 

“I don’t think I can do this, Richard.”

Talia stood, wrapped in her robe, still slightly unsteady on her feet, staring down at the golden bassinet that held their son. Derek was wrapped in his golden sheet, sleeping, hands taped up with the golden cloth Deaton had promised would protect them. 

Richard said nothing, but came up behind her and let her lean into the strength of his chest. 

Talia’s eyes started running again, so tired, weak, and disheartened from the last two days. A miracle, yes. But a curse. And a death - 

“What will John do without her? And what about Stiles? That poor boy, finding her like that, I can’t -”

“We’ll have them move into the castle. They can stay with us, John can keep his post and Stiles will be cared for. Lady McCall has already grown to love him,” Richard said, running a soothing hand down his wife’s arm. 

“Okay,” she sighed, ignoring her thoughts in favor of the warmth his hands brought to her. “I was supposed to have a girl,” she said quietly.

“Talia, please, you need to rest. I’ll take care of him. Deaton has more of that milk to feed him, and said he’ll make something to help you feed him tomorrow. Something to keep you safe.”

“Okay,” she mumbled again, and let him lead her to the bed. 

He sang sweet nothings to her until she fell asleep, and then the king slipped out of the bed, going over to his son.

“Derek Hale,” he said into the darkness. “Derek Hale, cursed prince. You will not be alone in this, my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I prOMISE the angst doesn't last forever, but the next chapter definitely gets worse...
> 
> [sorrynotsorry]


	4. The Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [6 years later]
> 
> Derek hated the gloves.
> 
> “Why don’t you ever take those off?”
> 
> Derek shot Paige a disapproving look. He didn’t answer, electing to ignore her. 
> 
> “Derek, I know you heard me, don’t be mean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I was late on the last chapter, AND it was super short, YOU GET ANOTHER. BULLY FOR YOU. And I remind you again that I told you this chapter was angstier but FEAR NOT - there are better days on the horizon. I promise.

[6 years later]

Derek hated wearing the gloves. He hated their very existence. He always tried to pull them off, and learned early on that that would just result in him getting taped up, the gloves sticking to his skin and pulling painfully. His mother told him he could never take them off, ever. 

Derek hated the gloves. 

He hated them more than the bath, more than the hair combing, more than the noisy older kid that ran too fast through the hallways and always seemed to get Derek covered in mud. Even though someone was always with them, watching Derek, Stiles’ mud somehow got everywhere. 

Okay, so he didn’t hate Stiles, but he definitely hated the mud. 

He hated that he had to always wear the gloves, and the gold tunics, and everyone that played with him had to wear gloves too. Stiles and Paige were the only ones that would, and Stiles was older so he couldn’t play that much. Even Laura and Cora don’t like the gloves, and they don’t like playing Derek’s “baby games” anyway. Stephen and Danielle, the twins, were too little to wear them yet.

He knew how to get them on and off by himself now, he was old enough, and they didn’t tape his hands up anymore because as much as he hated the gloves, he hated breaking rules more. 

Stiles would tell him he was “too serious” and “needed to have fun,” but Derek would simply frown and have Lady Melissa tell Stiles to go away. Stiles would always call him the lamest prince in the world, and Derek would always roll his eyes. 

The gloves were the the most important rule he had. But every time he thought about taking them off, a memory surfaced, and he would hesitate.

\--

When Derek was 3, finally able to rumble around on his own two feet with confidence, he had gotten fed up with his inability to open doors and chewed the tape off enough to get the glove off his hand. He had reached for the door and barely wrapped the handle in his small fist... 

He fell backwards to the ground in surprise when the handle started changing.

 

There was a shimmer in the air, almost, and slowly, like water seeping into cloth, the door changed from metal and wood to softly glimmering gold. 

Derek was transfixed. It was beautiful. 

He reached out to touch it again, but nothing changed the second time. He turned the handle and stumbled out, still staring at the door. 

“Derek?” 

He turned to find his mother in the hallway, walking towards him. 

“Mother, look!” He said, pointing at the door with his un-gloved hand. 

The queen froze in her tracks, inches from her son, and slowly started to back up, fear in her eyes.

“Derek, honey, I need you to put your glove back on.”

“But - mother, look, the door is -”

“Derek! Put the glove back on your hand!”

Derek had never heard his mother yell, and he stared at her in shock, confused as to why she looked to scared. She was moving away from him, and he didn’t know why.

“Mother?”

“Sweetheart, please, please, you have to put the glove back on.”

Derek stared at her for a few more seconds, but then did what he was told, sliding the glove back onto his hand, it’s familiar weight too heavy after his moment of freedom. 

“Mother, what’s wrong?”

His mother slowly came towards him again, relief on her face, and scooped him up, wary of his hands still. 

“I’ll explain one day, baby, but you have to promise me that you won’t take those off except when you’re in your room, okay? Derek, please? Promise me.”

“Okay, mother. I promise.”

Derek had wanted to take off the gloves countless times since then, but the terror on his mother’s face, so misplaced, had kept him from it. 

\--

“Why don’t you ever take those off?”

Derek shot Paige a disapproving look. She had yet to comment on the gloves since they met, and their friendship had been so promising. 

He didn’t answer, electing to ignore her. 

“Derek, I know you heard me, don’t be mean.”

Paige was seven, a whole year older than him, and thought she knew everything. She was almost as bad as Stiles, but she didn’t like mud either, so Derek let her play with him. 

“I can’t take them off. Mother says.”

“Why?” 

Derek sighed. 

“BeCAUSE, Paige, it’s the rules.”

She was silent for a moment, and Derek went back to building a tower with his blocks, hoping that her onslaught of questions was over. 

“Do you have weird hands?”

“What? No!” Derek huffed. 

“Well! I don’t know that, do I! I think you do!”

“I do not!”

“Prove it!”

Derek could see where this was going.

“I’m not going to take them off, it’s the rules, Paige!”

“Everything okay in here? I heard yelling.”

Both kids turned to look at King Richard, who had popped his head through the door. He was the one watching Derek today - Lady Melissa and the queen were off doing something in town. Laura was studying with him in the next room. She was forever complaining that Derek didn’t have to study royalty etiquette because he was a _boy_. Derek grinned at her smugly every time she brought it up.

“Yes, father. It’s fine.” Derek shot Paige a look, and she smiled innocently at the king. 

“Okay,” he said, raising an eyebrow before disappearing behind the doorframe. 

There was silence for almost a full minute, except for the scraping of the paper Paige was folding and the clunking of Derek’s blocks. 

“Are they colored funny?” She asked. 

 

Derek sighed again. His mother always teased that he had the ‘melodramatic capacity of someone twice his age,’ whatever that meant. 

“No.” 

“Do you have extra fingers? I promise I won’t make fun.” 

“ _No._ ”

“Do you have monster fingernails?”

“NO. I have normal hands!” Derek said in a furious whisper. 

“They why can’t I see them?”

Derek looked up at her, eyebrows drawn tight together. “Because it’s the RULE. Mother said so, and said she would explain when I got older. Are you asking me to disobey my MOM, the queen?”

Derek relished in using his mother against people, watching their faces drain of blood, but Paige had always been fearless.

“Yes,” she stated plainly. “I dare you. What harm could it do? Just show me your dumb, normal hands and I’ll stop asking.”

Derek hesitated, glancing towards the door. Since that day with the golden door, his mother and father had often reminded him to keep the gloves on always, no matter what. He trusted his parents - absolutely. But...what Paige said was true, too. What harm would it do to just pull them off real fast and show her? He’d put them back on as soon as he could, no one else would know.

Derek was good at getting them off and on quickly. He was allowed to have them off in his room, and he slept without them now that he was old enough. He wasn’t allowed to touch anything outside his room without them. That was another rule. 

“Paige, I don’t think I should.” He could feel his resolve crumbling. 

“Derek, come on, I just want to see. Real fast.” 

They were whispering now, both super aware of the king in the next room. Derek still hadn’t moved. 

“Derek.”

“Paige.”

“Deeeerekkkk.”

“Fine, okay? Fine. Just really fast and you CAN’T tell anyone.”

“Okay!” She agreed, eyes lit up, watching as Derek undid the fastenings on his left glove as quietly as he could. Paige watched impatiently, tapping her fingers on the ground. 

He slipped it off, the room suddenly cold to his hand, so used to the oppressive warmth of the glove. 

“See?” He said, holding up his palm towards her. “Normal hand.”

Paige quirked her mouth to the left, a tick she had that meant she was thinking. Which was bad. 

“Can I -”

“No,” Derek said, moving to put the glove back on. 

“Derek, come on, just -”

“Paige - ugh. Fine.” 

He held his hand back up, palm out, and Paige reached out her hand and lightly trailed her finger over Derek’s small palm. The sensation was so foreign that Derek flinched, and looked up at Paige to apologize. 

She wasn’t looking at him, though. She was staring at her hand, and the shimmering air around it. 

“Derek? What’s happening to m -”

But Derek was falling backwards, recognizing the shimmer and staring in horror as his closest friend started to change from herself to a golden statue, just like the door, hand still out towards Derek, eyes imploring for an answer.

In his fall, Derek knocked the tower over, causing the blocks to tumble behind him. The noise was tremendous but Derek was transfixed, horrified, knowing that a second touch would do nothing. 

His father’s head appeared in the doorway, followed by his body as he saw the look in his son’s eyes. 

“Derek? Derek what -”

“Father! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know that it would happen!” He cried, throwing himself into his father’s arms, clinging to him as he cried. “Please, can you fix it? I didn’t know! Father please!” 

His father didn’t respond, and Derek looked up at him, expecting him to say something. 

He fell back for the second time when he realized.

In his panic and haste, Derek had forgotten about his glove. His glove on the floor behind him. 

His father’s mouth was slightly open, eyes downwards, hands out as if to embrace his son, frozen and shining gold in the light from the window. 

Derek sat on the floor, eyes on his father, naked hand twisted in the front of his tunic. The room was quiet, the only sound his gasping breath, his two companions painfully silent. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to _do._

“Dad?” Laura called from the other room. Derek held his breath, tears pooling in his eyes. _What would he tell his sisters? His mother?_

“Dad?” She called again, this time entering the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t!” Derek shouted as he caught sight of his sister over the king’s golden shoulder. “Don’t come near me!”  
“Derek, what’s going - oh my God,” she gasped as she rounded the front of the king, hand flying up to cover her mouth. 

“Daddy?” She said in a whisper, reaching out to touch him. Laura’s hand shook as her fingers came in contact with the cold surface, and took another step back, turning her eyes towards Derek. 

“Derek,” she said, then noticing Paige on the ground next to him, frozen solid. 

“Derek,” she said again, and her voice broke as she started to cry. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Derek said, hating how his voice came out. He didn’t want to cry. He couldn’t cry. “Laura, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” 

She turned and ran from the room. 

Derek stared after her, his gaze then turning back towards his father. The King looked just like he always did, hair messy and shirt unbuttoned, hands strong and wide. A sob escaped him as he reached up to touch his father’s hand, so wrong and cold and hard. He kept touching the frozen statue of him, hoping against hope that he would turn back. 

“Please,” he whispered into the room, his ears the only ones hearing the plea. 

Soon he heard footsteps approaching the room.

“Derek?!” Came his mother’s panicked voice. “Richard?”

Another sob escaped him. 

“Derek?”

Then she was standing there, and Derek cowered into the corner of the room, terrified she would touch him and turn to gold too. 

“Don’t come near me! Don’t touch me! I’m sorry, mother, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! I didn’t want to, she asked me to - I didn’t -” and his words were taken over by wracking sobs.

There was a flurry of motion around him, and he sensed someone kneeling in front of him. 

“Derek. Derek look at me,” his mother said, and he did, through the tears still spilling down his face. She was holding the glove, and set it down on the floor between them. 

“Honey, I need you to put this back on, okay?”

Derek nodded, still sobbing, and took longer than he had in years to buckle the glove on because his hands were shaking and he couldn’t see through his watery eyes. 

“Okay,” she said after it was on, her eyes never leaving him. “Now -” she reached out her hand. 

Derek flinched away. “NO!” He shouted. “Don’t! Don’t touch me!”

Talia looked through her tears at her son, trembling and terrified in the corner of his playroom, his best friend and her husband turned to gold behind her, and her heart clenched in her chest. He was too young for this.

“Okay, baby, nobody will touch you. Can you follow me to your room?”

Derek nodded, standing, staying as far away from his mother as the room would allow. Laura had inched back into the room, staring at Derek, and then the king. 

“Okay, just - come this way, baby.” 

Derek followed his mother’s feet past Paige, past his blocks, past his father and Laura, crying at his feet, past Cora running into the room, past the knights outside his bedroom, and into his own bedroom. Talia paused at the door.

“Derek -”

“Just, please leave, Mother.”

“Okay, baby,” she said, and closed the door with a soft click. 

Once she checked the hallway to make she sure was alone, she crumpled to the floor, letting herself go, sobbing into the stone tiles. The queen wailed into the hall, letting loose the ripping pain in her chest. 

Derek could hear her through the door, and he didn’t cover his ears. He deserved to hear it. It was his fault. 

\----

 

There were two pyres this time, both over the same spot where they had cremated Claudia years before. The king should have had a traditional funeral in the castle, but Talia had elected to keep it quiet, intimate, because the less people knew about the curse, the better. 

Paige’s family was there, as well as the royal family and their advisors. Deaton was there, Captain Stilinski, Lady McCall - their respective children in the castle, away from the ceremony. A few others who were explicitly trusted. 

Derek was not present. 

The queen had stood outside Derek’s door, imploring that he open it, for hours. Derek had stayed resolute and silent, and eventually she had given up. 

Derek could almost see the group from his window, but he could definitely see the smoke from the fire, melting his father and friend into nothing. 

He cried, alone in his room, and swore to himself that it would never happen again. He would stay secluded, alone, and never touch another person ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cry for Derek. Like. All the time, guys. All the time. You can come cry with me, if you want.
> 
> [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com)


	5. The Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door was swung open and a scowl greeted him.
> 
> “What,” Prince Hale gritted out between his teeth, not making eye contact with him.
> 
> “Just bringing you lunch, sir. You mother sent it up.” Stiles held out the plate, but instead of taking it, the prince gestured to the table next to the door. Stiles set it down, watching as the prince kept his distance. He was always so careful to keep his distance. 
> 
> “Now go away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE HAVE FINALLY MADE IT TO THE PRESENT. YAAAAY. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos, my darlings!

[15 years later]

_BANG. BANG._

Stiles slammed his fist against the door twice, far louder than he probably should have, but he didn’t regret it. He revelled in the echoing silence, only waiting a few seconds before banging again, loud and obnoxious, grinning wide as he heard the bolt being drawn out and the many locks being undone. Then the door was swung open and a scowl greeted him.

“What,” Prince Hale gritted out between his teeth, not making eye contact with him.

“Just bringing you lunch, sir. You mother sent it up.” Stiles held out the plate, but instead of taking it, the prince gestured to the table next to the door. Stiles set it down, watching as the prince kept his distance. He was always so careful to keep his distance. 

“Now go away.”

“There’s nothing else you -”

“No. Leave.” 

Stiles exhaled, loudly, which didn’t elicit a response except the slight pull of the prince’s impressive eyebrows. 

“Of course, sir.”

Prince Hale slammed the door closed, barely waiting for Stiles to exit. 

“Little shit,” Stiles whispered to himself, and ran a hand over his face. 

He had officially earned his title as Knight of the Court barely two weeks ago, and was hand picked specifically by the queen to guard her recluse of a son. Stiles was honored, then annoyed, then resigned to his fate as a glorified babysitter, knowing he had the duty only because he was the new kid on the roster, and the prince’s old guard had retired recently. 

Also, apparently, he was ‘worthy of trust,’ according to Queen Hale. _Talia,_ as she had asked him to call her, like that was every going to happen. His father had made clear, it didn’t _matter_ that he had been acquainted with the royal family for years, she was the queen. Queen Hale, or Your Majesty, etc, etc. Stiles sighed, but obeyed. His father had been in politics and power a lot longer than he had.

Stiles figured his new assignment, consisting of a suspicious lack of field work and dangerous situations also had something to do with his father being captain of the guard. He took his revenge with barring red meat from their house. The kingdom’s mage, Deaton, had said it would prolong his father’s life if he stuck to chicken. Captain Stilinski was not pleased. 

Stiles grinned at the memory as he sat back down at the table in the hall, picking up the weaving he had been working on. There was a table that had been placed in the hall outside the prince’s room when he was young for the guard to sit at, keep themselves entertained. Stiles, even over two weeks, had brought dozens of things in to keep himself busy, as it was both lonely and boring to be the prince’s keeper. 

It would be different if the young prince would TALK to him, or come out of his room. Ever. Stiles didn’t know why he willingly secluded himself, though there were rumors - 

Stiles chose to ignore them. Maybe it was the prince’s winning personality that kept him away from the public. The kid had barely spoken three words to Stiles that weren’t, ‘go away,’ or ‘leave,’ and Stiles knocked on his door three times a day. He had never seen the prince exit, never seen him out of full clothes and formal gloves, never even heard of him leaving his room or the castle for at least a decade - he’d been locked away since they were children. Ever since the death of the king, the young Hale had been missing from every public event and every ceremony. It was like he had disappeared. 

“If only,” Stiles groaned to himself, for then he wouldn’t be stuck here, guarding someone who was locked in their room 24/7.

He only felt a little guilty for such thoughts, but the prince wasn’t winning any sympathy with Stiles, what with the glaring and tone and the slamming of the door. 

Scott was supposed to come by sometime, he PROMISED, to keep Stiles company, but hadn’t shown yet. It was probably that stupid Allison girl.

Okay, Allison wasn’t stupid, Stiles actually really liked her. He just hated how stupid Scott got while he was around her. 

Speak of the devil - Stiles heard a mighty crash at the end of the corridor just before Scott tumbled into view. He was laughing and another person rounded the corner, laughing just as hard.

Stiles scowled. _Sir Isaac._ Great. 

Not that Stiles had a particular hate for Isaac, just - he got to hang around Scott a lot more now that Stiles was on ‘special assignment,’ as his father had put it, and there was an uncomfortable burn of jealousy in Stiles’ gut whenever he thought about it. He hated the feeling, but couldn’t help himself wondering about the day that Scott decided Stiles was too flaily and sarcastic and rude and decided to become angel-faced Isaac’s best friend instead. 

Not that he would ever say that to either of them. Or anyone. Nope. Denial and avoidance, tactics Stiles clung valiantly to even now that he was a knight and a ‘real adult’ and everything. 

"Stiles!" Scott grinned widely as he turned, taking Isaac's hand to get up off the floor. "What's happening over here in the darkest corner of the castle? Did you discover any secret passages? Get more than two words out of his mighty Highness?"

Stiles stood quickly and clapped a hand over Scott's mouth, hissing, "His door isn't soundproof, you dunce."

Scott's eyes became almost comically wide, and Isaac snickered. 

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" Scott mumbled under his hand. "I've been talking shit for days!" 

"I wasn't exactly - aware - of how the sounds carries until yesterday," Stile admitted, rolling his eyes upwards as he thought back on it. 

He had been singing to himself. Okay, more like at the top of his lungs, because seriously this was the most remote part of the castle-- no one would hear him. He didn't have a bad voice, per se, but it wasn't one of his higher merits either. He had had the a same stupid song stuck in his head for the last few days.

"The fox went out on a chilly night,  
he prayed to the Moon to give him light,  
for he'd many a mile to go that night  
before he reached the town-o, town-o, town-o!!"

The door behind him slammed open, startling Stiles out of his seat and onto the floor. 

"You need to stop," Derek Hale said to him, and Stiles just stared at him. It was literally the first time he had heard Derek speak since they were children. 

Derek was fully dressed in a muted gold shirt and dark gold pants, clothing Stiles had decided to not comment on when he had been introduced as Derek’s new guard-- and the gloves. Gold and heavy looking. Derek stared at him, jaw set in an angry line, until Stiles realized he was waiting for a response. 

"Sorry, stop what? Uh, your highness?"

Prince Derek's frown deepened, if that was even possible, and he crossed his arms. Stiles realized belatedly that he was staring at the bulging muscles under his long sleeves. 

"That awful song you've been caterwauling for the last three days. Stop. Singing. It. And don't call me that."

Stiles could feel his face flush. "I was unaware you could - I didn't know you could hear - I'm sorry, your high- your Majesty?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "I'm amazed the whole fucking castle didn't hear you. And stop it. Call me Derek."

Stiles sputtered. "I can't just - you’re the Prince."

"Yes, and _the Prince_ wants you to call him by his name. You've known me for almost two decades."

"You - the queen would - and - I can't just - how about sir?" Stiles said, squinting up at him.

The Prince let out a slow breath. "Fine. And pick a different song, if you MUST sing at all." 

The door slammed a shut, leaving Stiles gaping on the floor.

He was eyeing said door now, still holding his hand over Scott's mouth, but he was fairly certain Derek wouldn't make an appearance. In the last two weeks, Stiles had barely seen him once a day, and he was literally the only person Derek interacted with, besides the weekly visit with the queen that lasted all of ten minutes. His sisters came by once, together, but they only spoke with him for a moment before Derek was closing the door in their dejected faces. Stiles had just remained silent. 

"Is it true that he’s deformed? Or crazy? You've seen him, right?" Isaac said, in a hushed whisper.

"Yes, I’ve seen him, no, he's not deformed. He's actually pretty gorgeous."

"All of the royals are gorgeous," Isaac said, almost to himself.

"And I haven't seen any evidence of crazy, just generally unpleasant and rude."

"Stiles!" Scott said, shooting a glance at the closed door.

"What? It's nothing I wouldn't say to his face." Probably. Maybe. 

Scott scoffed and snatched the weaving off the table where Stiles had left it. "New one?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, frowning at it. "Not sure I like where it's going."

"Dude, this is sweet." Isaac nodded in agreement. 

"You think all of them are sweet. Even the one with the pig, remember?"

Isaac looked up at him with a smirk. "I had really shitty taste at 13."

Stiles gasped, faux-offended, and Scott rolled his eyes, smacking him in the arm. 

“Have you met the whole royal family? Like, do the princesses come by? Ever?” Isaac asked, looking up at Stiles expectantly. Stiles glanced at Scott, who just shrugged. 

“I mean. Yeah, they come by. Why?”

“Have you seen Princess Cora? She’s like - a goddess.”

“Uh -”

“I just want to talk to her. Do you think she would talk to me? Does she seem nice?”

“Yeah, dude, I talked to her one time for like 10 seconds, I don’t really know her -”

“Can you introduce me to her?” Isaac was spending too much time with Scott because the puppy eyes were on full.

“I - I don’t know?”

“Stiles. I need to meet her if she’s going to have my babies.”

“Isaac, geez, feel like you’re jumping ahead much? You’re not even of noble birth,” Scott said.

“The Hales don’t really care about that,” Stiles pointed out, earning a smile from Isaac and a frown from Scott. 

“Exactly. So I need to meet her and sweep her off her feet and then see her naked.”

The door slammed open. The three of them froze. Stiles was the first to move, turning his head slightly to look behind him. 

Derek Hale stood, hand on the door, fury on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no it's a cliFFHANGER AAAAA
> 
> Guess you'll find out next week...you could always come yell at me about it on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com)


	6. The Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you okay?" Stiles asked, tentatively.
> 
> Derek looked at the floor. "Fine." 
> 
> The door closed, and Stiles stared at it, realizing that was the first time Derek hadn't slammed it shut.
> 
> \------
> 
> They were never friends, exactly. They knew each other, their parents were close, but Stiles didn’t think he would say they had ever been friends. It was like remembering an extended relative of your parents - a handful of moments, a day in the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH!  
> Sorry I'm late. I meant to post last night...and ended up going to a gay club with my sibling and best friends. So i was distracted. Forgive me, darlings.

"Who the fuck is this?" Prince Hale growled out, face pinched and eyes murderous.

"Your Highness! Derek! Uh, sir? This is my friend Scott, best friend, and this is Isaac, and they were just _getting the hell out of here!_ " Stiles hissed the last part, pushing unsubtly at Scott and Isaac, who was still frozen in fear. 

"Which one of you so eloquently described getting my sister - her _royal Highness,_ \- out of her clothing?"

Stiles sucked in a breath. For a recluse, Derek was kind of terrifying. Had to be the eyebrows. 

"Um. M-me?" Isaac raised his hand, staring at the floor.

"Sir, he was just-"

"Shut up, Stiles," came the gravelly response. 

Stiles shut up.

"You. Isaac. Whatever. I may not have a lot of clout from your perspective, I might not be deformed, MAYBE I'm crazy, but let me make one thing clear - I hear about you TOUCHING my sister, and I will make sure they don't find your body."

Isaac gulped, and both he and Scott shuffled backwards. 

"Derek, dude - sir, um, he was just expressing - expressing a grand appreciation for your sister’s beauty in the menial way his upbringing would allow. He's - his breeding, is of course, lower class than yours, your maj- sir, and therefore he is unable to properly articulate his awe in the face of such - uh - celestial - uh, beauty."

All three were now staring at Stiles; Isaac in terror, Scott in disbelief, and Derek in - amusement?

"Uh - sir?" Stiles asked, having no idea what the lack of negative reaction meant.

Derek turned his attention back to Isaac and growled. "Get. Out."

"Yes sir, of course sir, I didn't mean to offend- sir," Isaac mumbled, backing away.

"You're just lucky your friend’s bullshit is so amusing."

Stiles shot him a glance, and then pushed Scott again. The two men took off, practically running down the hall.

"Thanks for terrifying away my friends. I'll be lucky if they ever visit me again."

"He's lucky his head is still attached to his body. I don't want them to come back."

"Dude, he was kidding," Stiles said, sitting back down at his table.

"He was insulting a royal. Don’t call me dude. That doesn't even makes sense, how are you not okay calling me my name but you're fine calling me dude?"

Stiles shrugged. "I call everybody dude. I call my dad dude."

Derek snorted, and Stiles looked up in surprise. There was almost a smile on the prince’s face, before he realized Stiles was looking at him and his usual expression of stone returned.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, tentatively.

Derek looked at the floor. "Fine." 

The door closed, and Stiles stared at it, realizing that was the first time Derek hadn't slammed it shut.

\------

They were never _friends,_ exactly. They knew each other, their parents were close, but Stiles didn’t think he would say they had ever been friends. It was like remembering an extended relative of your parents - a handful of moments, a day in the sun.

He has memories, vague impressions of a little boy far too serious for his own good, who would humor Stiles' antics and always complain about how dirty they got. Stiles had been a ball of energy from the moment he was born, and at 11 hadn't slowed down at all. He remembers, maybe a week before the King’s death, Derek and Paige playing with him in the gardens to the side of the castle. Paige had barely tolerated Stiles, but that was mostly because she, like Derek, didn’t like dirt. Or fun.

"Come on, grumpy pants, it's fun!" 

Derek looked up at Stiles, dangling upside down from a tree branch above them. Paige rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure it will be extra fun when you fall and break your arm," she said. 

"Paige," Derek said seriously. "He's not going to really fall, is he?"

"No!" Stiles shouted at the same time Paige shrugged and said, "Maybe."

"Stiles. Do not fall," Derek ordered upwards.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Stiles said. "Why do you care? You don’t even like me."

"I don't want you to get hurt," Derek said sincerely.

"Oh," Stiles said, face red from the blood rushing downwards.

"I wouldn't mind," Paige said.

"Paige," Derek said. She shrugged again.

Stiles fell right on top of them.

"Idiot! You ruined my castle!" Paige yelled at him, looking angrily down at the pile of stones she had been carefully laying out, now rolling around in disarray.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked, poking at Stiles with a gloved hand. Stiles dad had told him not to mention the princes gloves, so he hadn't, even though he wanted to all the time. Stiles’s father reminded him constantly that he was lucky the prince liked him enough to let him into the gardens. Usually the guards and their family weren’t high enough ranking to be on such familiar terms with the royal family. Stiles had pointed out that most of the time he only played with Derek because Scott was busy, or no one else could entertain him, and Captain Stilinski lightly smacked him in the back of the head. 

Stiles sat up, brushing grass off of him. “I’m fine,” he said, and stuck his tongue out at Paige. 

“Derek! Come inside, dear!” The queen’s voice carried over the stone wall and over to her son, who immediately followed instructions.

“Do you always do what your mom tells you to?” Stiles asked him before he was out of earshot.

Derek turned, frowning as usual. “Yes. Don’t you?”

Stiles kicked at the soft earth, and Paige stood to follow Derek. “His mom died,” she said softly.

“Oh,” Derek said, not knowing what to say. He couldn’t even imagine if his mom died, or his dad - or anyone really. 

“Derek!”

“Coming, mother!” He yelled, and ran off. 

\--------

They were never friends, just acquaintances, occasional playmates, pushed together by busy parents. Stiles didn’t know what Derek liked to eat or his favorite color, just that he didn’t like dirt. But sometimes, now, years later, sitting in the empty hallway, Derek’s golden door behind him, he wondered where that little boy had gone, softer and more caring than the man he had become. 

What had happened to make him so cold?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my beta apollojoras pointed out that it's a little humorous that Stiles refers to the Hale's beauty as celestial because apparently:  
> [hell yeah, you should put in here that ancient Greek dudes used to sprinkle gold flecks in their hair to make it shine in the light, thus the influence of the halo appearing in artwork]  
> because they are a big art school nerd. I just thought you mind find that tidbit interesting!
> 
> More next week! Thank you for the comments and kudos!


	7. The Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek did not like Stiles. No.
> 
> He was loud, for one. ALL THE TIME. It wasn’t just the singing, though Derek thinks he scared that out of him. He was loud when he walked. When he moved. It was impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I was just working on this and I was like POST ANOTHER CHAPTER and then I said NO IT'S EARLY and I then was like POST IT ANYWAY so here I am. 
> 
> We're finally getting somewhere...

Derek did not like Stiles. No.

He was loud, for one. ALL THE TIME. It wasn’t just the singing, though Derek thinks he scared that out of him. He was loud when he walked. When he _moved._ It was impossible. 

Sound didn’t really carry that well through his door, but he could hear when Stiles was talking - or gods forbid, singing - and he usually came over to the door and pressed an ear up to it to hear what he was talking about. A lot of time he was just talking to himself, but occasionally his stupid friends were there. One time, Stiles had been talking to Laura. 

He hadn’t heard the blond kid since he threatened him bodily harm, but the other guy with the stupid hair still came by occasionally. There was a girl too - Derek almost remembered her from before - Lydia something. She was usually brief and all business, and Stiles did whatever she told him to. 

Derek did not like any of them. 

But, that was hardly surprising. Derek hadn’t gotten to know anyone enough to like them since - 

A long time. 

It had been about 2 months since Jameson had retired, who was quiet and read his books all day long and didn’t bother Derek at all, and Derek found himself both perpetually annoyed and intrigued by the stark contrast that Stiles was as his new guard. 

His mother had told him to be nice. He hadn’t responded. 

Derek sighed to himself and thumbed the pages of the well worn book in his hands. He wasn’t wearing the gloves, because he was in his room and Stiles had already gone home. Boyd, the night guy, Derek had literally never seen or heard. 

The book was one of a dozen that Deaton had enchanted through the years - Derek had a few meager possessions that didn’t turn to gold at the touch of his skin, all encased and protected by powerful magic. Deaton would ask him, once a year, for his birthday, what he wanted - Derek usually asked for a book, once another pillow, paper, pencils, a bowl - little things. It took a lot out of the mage, the spell taking enormous amounts of energy for consistent protection. Derek hadn’t been aware at the time, but shortly after his birth, Deaton had used one of the elder charms he had - one of the three the mage had accumulated and lost over centuries - to enchant clothing of various sizes to account for Derek’s growth, linens for him to use, furnishings for his room, and several pairs of gloves that would allow him to eat and interact with others without turning them to gold. Even with the elder charm, it had apparently taken a lot out of the mage, and he had been in recovery for months. Derek’s mother joked that it was a good thing they were on such good terms with other kingdoms because they wouldn’t have survived a battle without their mage. 

Derek scowled in response. 

All of his books were well-worn, read over and over, practically memorized. His paper was slowly running out - he would have to ask more from Deaton this year. He never had to ask for more clothes or shoes because he never left his room, or at least never went further than the doorway. 

One of his favorite things he had ever asked for was the iron pull up bar he had suspended from the ceiling over in the corner. A gold bar would have just bent with his weight (his 14 year old self may have tried that) and he had started working out in his early teens as a way to get out of his own head. The counting would calm his thoughts, and the push and pull of his muscles was soothing. Sometimes exhausting himself was the only way he could fall asleep. 

What he really wanted to do was run. But - his room was big, and long, long enough for a little stretch if he moved the bed over, and he had resorted to that when he got really desperate, but - 

It wasn’t really enough. Sometimes he considered just running around the east loop of the castle, where his room was, hardly anyone would see him -

He imagined having to tell Stiles what he was doing and that shut the idea down every time. 

Stiles was far too intrusive. He would bang on the door to deliver things and give Derek food instead of sliding things through the little slot in the wall that Derek had demanded be put in when he was 12. It was one of the few fights he could remember having with his mother, and he still felt guilty thinking about it now. 

“I haven’t asked for anything except to be alone! Why won’t you let me have this?”

“You’re completely cutting yourself off, Derek. I want to bring you things. I want to talk to you! This is just another way you’re isolating yourself!’

“Exactly! I don’t want to hurt anyone else!”

“You won’t hurt me,” his mother had said, reaching out for his shoulder. 

“You don’t know that,” Derek replied, backing away from her. “Don’t touch me!”

“Derek -”

“Mom. I want a door put in the wall and I want you to put food through it. If you have to feed me at all.”

“Derek! How can you say -”

“That’s all I want. A door. I don’t want you to come in my room, I don’t want to talk to you, and I don’t want to see you.”

“Derek, please -”

“No, mom! I can’t - I can’t hurt anyone else! I can’t kill you like I killed my father!”

Talia flinched backwards at the mention of the king, like she always did, which is why Derek brought it up now. He wanted to end this fight and just go back into his room. 

“Just don’t,” he had said, and she didn’t stop him as he slowly closed the door in her face. She had stayed away for almost three weeks, letting someone else put food through the door every day. Then she was back, and convinced him to let her see him once a week. That had been their standing deal for the last 9 years. Once a week, the queen would appear at his door, he would refuse her request to come inside, and they would talk in the doorway. She told him about the neighboring countries, the plans for the week, his sisters, people he hadn’t spoken to in years. He knew all about the drama and rivalries of the court, both through her and his sisters, who showed up every once in a while and badgered him into talking with them and getting his opinion on things, even though he literally never had one. 

Once, Cora had asked him if he thought the dress she was wearing was stylish.

“Cora, I have not been out of the this room in 10 years, what makes you think I know what stylish is?”

They stopped asking his opinion on clothes after that. It had been a pretty color, which he had said right after that, but it was true - what did he know of courtly fashion? All his clothing was dark greys and browns, with the ironic lining of gold here and there. He had asked Deaton if that was on purpose once, and the mage had merely raised a brow and said nothing. 

His younger siblings, Stephen and Danielle, came once a year on his birthday with his mother and his sisters. Derek had never gotten to know the twins, being so small when he locked himself away, but both were smart and quiet, much like he had been. He ached with the want of knowing them and wanting to keep as far as he could from them - keep them safe. He didn’t want to look them in the eye and explain why they didn’t have a father, and Derek had been the cause. He couldn’t. 

His relationship with his family was strained, at best. He knew it was his fault. All of this was his fault.

_Tap-tap-tap._ There was a light knock at the door and Derek nearly fell backwards in the chair, leaning precariously on two legs. The book fell to the floor and he scrambled to put a shirt on - and the gloves! The GLOVES -

“Derek?” Stiles muffled voice came through the wall. The idiot had finally conceded to call him Derek instead of ‘sir,’ and it was about time. Derek had never felt like a ‘sir,’ or a highness or majesty or anything.

“Hold on, hold on,” he said, slipping his gloves on and fastening them tightly before going to the door and letting it swing open.

“Sorry, uh,” Stiles said immediately, then didn’t continue, staring. Derek realized too late that he hadn’t laced up the shirt, leaving it open in front. Stiles eyes were on his chest and his face was red. Derek swallowed self-consciously and crossed his arms. Stiles blinked and brought his gaze back up to Derek’s face. 

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No,” Derek said, leaning on the doorframe. “I was reading.”

“Ah. Well. I brought you something. Well, I originally had more, but I couldn’t let Boyd here starve.”

Derek looked over Stiles’ shoulder to see Boyd for the first time, a broad shouldered, dark skinned man who didn’t even look up from his book to acknowledge them. 

Stiles then thrust a box at him, and Derek reflexively took a step backwards. Stiles frowned, but placed the box on the table next to the door where he always placed things. 

“What is it?” Derek said, eyeing the box but not opening it. 

“It’s not going to suddenly burst into flames, just open it,” Stiles said, smiling, leaning back on his heels. 

Derek sighed, and then carefully lifted up the lid of the box to see two pastries nestled in paper. He raised an eyebrow at Stiles, who shrugged.

“The bakery made too many today, and I thought you’d like it. I mean. There were four of them, but I gave Boyd one, and I maybe ate the other one on the way here, so -”

“It’s fine. Th- thanks. For the, uh,” Derek said, tapping on the lid of the box with his gloved finger.

“Sure,” Stiles said, and his hand twitched like he was going to touch Derek. Derek backed up a step, and Stiles frowned. 

“I guess I’ll - see you tomorrow?”

Derek just nodded.

“Okay,” Stiles said, and turned away. Derek closed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much lovelies - I adore this story, and am glad so many of you like it too! Comments are like my favorite thing ever, and come talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com) if you want!!


	8. The Weaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Laura, heir to the throne, was sitting at his work table rifling through his box of books and craft supplies, looking for all the world like she belonged there. 
> 
> “Um,” Stiles started, but had no idea how to continue.
> 
> “Before you ask why I’m digging through your things, you should know that leaving your belongings out where anyone can get into them is just dumb, and technically, you left them in my house, so shame on you.”
> 
> “Um. What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darlings! Thank you for your continuing support and enjoyment of my work! New characters this chapter....

Stiles was running late. It was the ONLY time it had happened in two months, and he was freaking out. He had no idea what would happen to him. 

Maybe Boyd had stayed later? It wasn’t like Derek was in any danger, or at least any danger Stiles was aware of, because nothing had happened in the time Stiles had been so-called guarding the prince. 

Maybe he would just get fired on the spot. 

Stiles was really good at jumping to worst-case scenarios.

Out of breath, he raced around the last corner into the east wing and stopped dead in his tracks, flailing to keep his balance. 

Princess Laura, heir to the throne, was sitting at his work table rifling through his box of books and craft supplies, looking for all the world like she belonged there. 

“Um,” he started, but had no idea how to continue.

“Before you ask why I’m digging through your things, you should know that leaving your belongings out where anyone can get into them is just dumb, and technically, you left them in my house, so shame on you.”

“Um. What?”

“Stiles, you left this in the hallway. It’s my right and DUTY as a person of the royal family to - investigate suspicious items and activity for potential threats.”

“Um. Okay, that was the worst bullshit I have heard from anyone in your family, and that’s saying something, because I’m the only person Derek talks to on a regular basis.”

Laura gave him the patented Hale Glare Of Death, and Stiles suddenly felt the need to rethink his decision to _sass at his boss._

“I mean, of course. Your highness. Be my guest.”

“No, don’t do that, you’ll ruin it! I was starting to like you!”

Stiles was confused. “What?”

“Derek was right, you’re really not as smart as you seem.”

“Excuse me, _your highness,_ but I don’t think you should be listening to the opinion of a person who mostly communicates through death glares and threats of bodily harm. And the occasional eye roll.”

Laura, of all things, laughed. 

“Glad to see you’re still an asshole, Stilinski.”

Stiles glared at her, and she smiled. 

“Glad to see you’re still spoiled and full of yourself.”

“You know, I could have you beheaded for that.”

“But you won’t,” Stiles smirked. Laura used to threaten that all the time when they were kids, but once she had confided in him that she hated blood and would never cut anyone’s head off. He had held that over her head for years afterwards. 

“I regret ever telling you that. I thought I could trust you.”

“We were like. 10 years old. Who trusts a 10 year old?”

“That was about 15 years ago, maybe I don’t mind blood so much anymore.”

“Yeah, _okay,_ so you wouldn’t mind if I just -”

Stiles reached over the table and grabbed the needle from his half-finished weaving. He raised it slowly, making as if to prick the tip of his finger, and Laura’s face paled. 

“DON’T, don’t, okay, fine, I still hate blood, and you’re still an asshole!” She yelled, waving her hand. Stiles laughed at her.

The door behind her rattled, and they both turned to find a angry-looking Derek staring at them. Not that looking angry was anything new. 

“What are you doing, Laura?”

“Talking to my dear old friend Stiles, brother mine. Why, were we bothering you?”

“No,” Derek said, “I just was wondering if there was a point to your visit. You did come to see _me,_ didn’t you?”

“Maybe she came to see me,” Stiles said. “I do have friends.”

“Yes, you have two, Scott and Lydia, but that’s it.”

Stiles gaped at Derek, who stared back smugly. 

“How did - how - what -”

“I was here to see you, but Stiles is more interesting.”

Derek looked offended, and Stiles had to fight the urge to stick his tongue out. 

Stiles and Laura were the same age, only months apart, and since Stiles had been at the castle a lot, they had taken some classes together as children. General knowledge, history, geography, maths, and music - while Laura had also had extra things like etiquette and leadership. She would complain to Stiles endlessly about it, how it wasn’t fair he didn’t have to do extra things and he didn’t have to wear stiff clothing and look a certain way all the time. Stiles thought it was interesting, so he listened to her, and they became sort of friends. 

Then Laura’s father had died. 

Stiles had thought, right when it happened, that he could help Laura - and Derek, if the kid would talk to him. Stiles himself had lost a parent, and had even told Laura about the nightmares and the panic attacks that plagued him. She, Scott, and Lydia were the only ones who knew - besides his dad and Lady McCall - because he didn’t like talking about it. Ever. 

So it had hurt, when Laura had stopped coming to class with him and requested a private tutor. It had confused Stiles, and he tried to ask Laura about it and she had brushed him off. Their friendship fizzled into acquaintance, and they had barely spoken since.

Now, being older and infinitely more wise, Stiles assumed that the death of the King had hit her pretty hard and she hadn’t wanted to explain herself to a little boy from court. Still, it was surprising that she was so open towards him now, though he was sure some of that was just to mess with her brother. 

“Now, Stiles, tell me what this is,” she said, and lifted up the weaving he was currently in the middle of. It was about a quarter of the way finished, and on his second to smallest frame, only about the length of his arm. It was supposed to be a sunset.

Stiles scowled at it, and Laura laughed in surprise. “What?”

“I - was going to start that one over, actually.”

“You make these often?” Laura asked, and looked pointedly at the floor where his box of colored thread lay. 

Stiles shrugged. “Yeah, helps pass the time. I - my mom taught me how.”

Laura glanced up at him with a small smile, and he knew she could sympathize. Then she was rooting through his bag to look at the finished ones he hadn’t taken home yet. 

“Hey, here’s a brilliant idea, why don’t we ASK Stiles before we go through his things?”

Laura scoffed and pulled up the weaving he had finished two days ago, the evergreen trees for his dad. Captain Stilinski didn’t have much time for walking through the forest nowadays, and Stiles had wanted to make him something to hang in the guard tower to remind him of his favorite escape. 

“Wow,” Laura said, and Stiles felt the back of his neck heat. He had spent a long time on that one, so he knew it was good, but he wasn’t the best at taking compliments.

“You made that?”

Both Stiles and Laura turned and then froze, because Derek had taken a step out of his room. He was only about a foot away from the door, hand still gripping the doorframe, but he was OUT. 

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles started, trying not to make a big deal out of it, but Laura was staring at Derek like he had two heads, so Stiles assumed the prince didn’t leave the safety of his chamber often. “I weave a lot, and that one is for my dad.”

“It’s. Uh, it’s good. I guess,” Derek said, taking a step backwards again, and Laura let out a breath like she had been holding it in. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said softly, and Derek glanced at his sister’s face. The openness that had been there for a second was suddenly gone, and he took another step back, inching the door closed again.

“Derek, wait,” Laura said, shaking herself and dropping the weaving onto Stiles’ little table.

“What?” Came the gruff reply, and she asked him something, too low for Stiles to hear. Stiles decided that the window over on the far side of the corridor was supremely interesting, and spent a good ten minutes studying it and studiously ignoring the murmur of conversation between the siblings. 

“Thanks, Stiles,” Laura said, softly, coming up behind him. 

“For what?” He asked, and then she hugged him, hard, and he stood stiffly for a moment before wrapping his arms back around her and letting her take what she needed. She felt familiar and completely different; the last time they had been close enough to hug, Laura had been taller than him, and both of them had been more bony and wiry and young. It had been a long time. 

Stiles released her, slowly, and she gave him another watery smile before tossing her long braid over her shoulder, brushing her hands down her gown and pursing her lips. 

“Be nice to him,” she said, and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, your highness,” he said, bowing a little. 

She smirked, and Stiles saw the Hale resemblance again. Then Laura turned and marched down the corridor, not looking back. 

Stiles made his way over to the table, settling down to undo the partly-finished weaving when he realized the door was still slightly open. He turned fully around to see Derek looking at him, blankly. 

“You were friends with her, before,” he said. It wasn’t really a question. 

“Yeah, long time ago,” Stiles replied, and then hesitated before continuing. “I like to think you and I were friends too.”

Derek just looked at him for a second, then glanced back down at the weaving. 

“Don’t undo it. I like it,” he said, closing the door further. 

Stiles frowned at the threads in his lap.

“And we were.”

The door clicked shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY listen  
> I know this is Feels Town up in here and I keep apologizing for the angst, but HEY  
> YOU SHIP STEREK  
> ANGST IS WHERE THEY LIVE OKAY  
> SO THAT'S ON YOU, NOT ME
> 
>  
> 
> iloveyoupleaseenjoy


	9. The Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tap-tap-tap
> 
> Derek scowled, ignoring the door because he KNEW it was Stiles, no one else knocked like that. He didn’t want to talk to Stiles. Stiles was - annoying. And friends with Laura. And now Stiles knew about Derek’s weakness for raspberries, thanks to his backstabbing sister. 
> 
> Tap-tap-tap, it came again, this time louder. Derek ignored it harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'M LATE  
> BUT YOU KNOW WHAT  
> Yesterday I was celebrating my shitty country's birthday and I hosted a huge BBQ and PEOPLE and THINGS so don't be mad
> 
> Edit: a friend was reading this today and noticed some continuity issues with the ages. It's been fixed, but just FYI, Stiles is about 5 years older than Derek.
> 
> Also! I am creating a playlist for this fic, it's only got 4 songs so far? So if you have any favorite Sterek songs or gold-themed songs or just angsty songs in general, let's be honest, feel free to post them in the comments! I need inspiration!

Snippets of conversation began to flow between them. Stiles would knock, give him food or something from his sisters or Deaton, and then ask him questions. Derek would even answer, sometimes. He never had to ask questions back, because Stiles filled up silence with words faster than Derek could catch them, answering his own queries with stories and more stories that rambled into something else entirely, until Derek stopped him or made up an excuse to get him to leave. No one had ever been so unrestrained towards Derek - some of which was due to his isolation. It was hard to meet people when you never left your room. 

He hated that now he KNEW things about Stiles - without even wanting to. Stiles just talked and talked, about anything and everything. It had been months since Stiles had taken the position as Derek’s guard, and that was plenty of time for Derek to learn an uncomfortable amount of personal details about the man. He knew all about Stiles’ father’s health, his weakness for baked goods, and his preference for weaving nature. Derek knew about Erica, who worked at the bakery in town, who Stiles bribed to get extra rolls and tarts. He knew about Scott and his crush on the tailor’s daughter, Allison. He knew Stiles’ favorite color was blue. It was infuriating.

Stiles was also always cheerful, especially in the morning, and Derek was beginning to suspect it was because Stiles knew how much it annoyed him. Stiles’ stupid grin just widened every time Derek gave him a death look, which annoyed Derek even more.

He was becoming more than just a guard to Derek, that was for sure, and Derek had an uncomfortable itch under his skin whenever he thought about it. He hadn’t known practically anything about Jameson, his last guard, and that had been just fine with him. He shouldn’t have even started talking to Stiles anyway. He had tried to get Stiles to leave him alone with halting responses and glares and excuses to get away from - whatever was going on between them. Stiles either didn’t care or simply ignored his attempts. It only made matters worse that Stiles was talking to Laura on a regular basis now too. Sometimes it took HOURS for her to come up to Derek’s door, even though _that was reason she came to this part of the castle in the first place._ Or it was supposed to be.

After that first time the two had talked, Laura and Stiles became fast friends - re-friends? He wasn’t sure how close they had been before - and it was terrible. He didn’t even know why it bothered him so much. Why couldn’t Stiles and Laura be friends? Why the hell not?

Because Laura was his _sister_ and Stiles was his _guard_ and they liked to talk about him when they thought he couldn’t hear them. Laura kept telling Stiles little things about him, things that Stiles wouldn’t know otherwise, like what he liked to eat and read and how he used to not be able to stand still. They talked about how he must work out a lot - Laura hadn’t really noticed, seeing him fairly often over the last decade and a half, but Stiles pointed out that he hadn’t seen the Prince since they were children. And no one magically grows biceps like that. 

“You seem awfully interested in my brother’s muscles, Stiles,” Laura said with a lilt that made Derek lean his ear closer to the door. They had been out there, talking low enough that he had to strain, for half an hour. It was annoying enough that he had considered interrupting, but then Stiles had started talking about his arms. 

“What? No I’m not, I’m just mentioning. Does he have weights in there or something? You can’t get abs like that from just push ups.”

“When the hell did you see Derek’s abs?”

Derek could imagine Stiles’ face flush, just the same as when he had seen Derek’s shirt unlaced. 

“He - he came out with his shirt open, okay? Don’t look at me like that, I’m not a creeper, he _answered the door half naked,_ ” Stiles said, sounding embarrassed. 

“Hm. Still seems an odd thing to remember so - vividly. It was just once, you say? Interesting.”

“Laura, shut up. He’s - I don’t want to make it weird.”

“Weird?”

“We’re like. Almost friends. Borderline friends. He talks to me WILLINGLY sometimes. I don’t want him to think I have a crush on him, because I don’t. Finding someone attractive isn’t having a crush. I find YOU attractive.”

“Okay, okay, fine, he’s - okay looking. I guess. Good genes, you know. He actually -”

Laura paused. There was a scraping sound, like Stiles had pulled his chair closer to her.

“Laura? You - okay?”

“Yeah, fine. He just looks like - a lot like our father. Especially when he hasn’t shaved for a few days.”

Stiles made a sympathetic noise. 

“I miss him. Still,” Laura said, voice so quiet Derek didn’t know if he had heard her correctly.

There was silence, and Derek backed away from the door. 

 

\----------------------------

_Tap-tap-tap_

Derek scowled, ignoring the door because he KNEW it was Stiles, no one else knocked like that. He didn’t want to talk to Stiles. Stiles was - annoying. And friends with Laura. And now Stiles knew about Derek’s weakness for raspberries, thanks to his backstabbing sister. 

_Tap-tap-tap_ , it came again, this time louder. Derek ignored it harder. 

“Derek?” Came the muffled voice, and Derek resisted the urge to sigh loudly, hoping Stiles wouldn’t hear him and just give up. 

There was a moment of silence, and Derek was annoyed at himself for the twist of disappointment in his gut, thinking Stiles had left. 

“You know,” Stiles said through the door then, and Derek glanced up at it. “This door doesn’t seal all the way at the bottom, so I can tell your light is still on.”

Derek glared at the lamp in question, cursing it for existing. 

“But if you don’t want to talk, that’s okay.”

There was a sliding sound and a thump, and Stiles voice continued. “These stone floors leave a lot to be desired. Apparently they were not meant for sitting.”

Derek could see him, in his mind’s eye, leaning up against the door in the dim hallway. It was close to sunset, and in a couple hours Boyd would show up and Stiles would go home.

“I just - you’re probably not even listening. Do you want me to go away?”

Stiles waited, but Derek didn’t respond. He didn’t know what he wanted, so he didn’t say anything. 

“Okay, well, you’ve been pretty vigilant about letting me know when I annoy you, so just tell me to shut up and I will.”

There was another pause, and a soft thump, like Stiles had let his head fall against the door. 

“My dad and I got into a fight. Again. About the food thing.”

Derek stayed silent, but Stiles was right - he could just tell him to leave if he wanted to. Which he would. Eventually. Tell him to go away. And stop -

“I just don’t understand why he won’t listen to me. Really, he’s listening to Deaton, who knows better than anyone, the dude is like 400 years old. Do you know how old he actually is? I’m just guessing, general area of 400. I wish I would look that good at 400, let alone 100.”

Derek smirked, knowing that Deaton regularly lied about his age. Derek had heard everything from 57 to 620. 

“Anyway. Deaton says that red meat will make my dad’s blood bad, or something - it was all very mystical - and he needs to be better about eating vegetables. Which is a good idea ANYWAY, the big hypocrite. He used to make me eat everything green on my plate before I was allowed to touch the meat or bread. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Stiles sighed, the sound soft through the door. 

“My mom used to make this - green mix thing that he liked. He would eat almost all of it, and then steal mine. I wish... Uh, well. I wish - I wish-"

Stiles voice cut off, and Derek was on his feet before even noticed. He realized he had never asked how Stiles’ mom had died, and Stiles rarely talked about her. 

Derek hesitated a moment before crossing the room and sliding down the door, his back pressed against it, probably mirroring Stiles on the other side.

There was a soft intake of breath from outside his room, and Derek froze, afraid that Stiles had heard him sit against the door. He waited for something, anything, hardly breathing, when Stiles’ voice picked up again as if nothing had happened.

"I wish she had showed me how to make it. Before," Stiles finished, and then was quiet.

“My dad used to sneak me raspberries under the table at dinner. I - I don’t remember a lot about him, but I remember that. I know Laura told you I like them.”

Stiles was quiet again for a moment, and Derek was suddenly worried he had overstepped somehow. Maybe Stiles just needed to talk to someone, just get it out - maybe he didn’t want Derek to talk back. Maybe he had been hoping Derek was asleep and not actually listening to him. 

He was on the verge of standing up and walking back to his bed, when Stiles said - “She used to put raspberries in it. And nuts, I don’t know what kind. I was only 5.”

“I was 6.” He whispered, knowing Stiles could hear him.

They sat for a few moments in silence. Stiles, predictably, was the one to break it. 

“So, we get in this fight, right? And it’s the same argument over and over - he's all, I’m the captain of the guard, I get to decide, and then I say, DAD, you know who else gets to decide? Death. Death decides you like meat too much and you need to come over for a good talking to. That usually works for a while.”

Derek snorted.

“And he promised me that he wasn’t getting any beef from the market - I used to go with him, when I had time, and I could keep an eye on him, but he likes to go during the day, when I’m here, so I have no idea what he’s eating. I haven’t found any at the house yet, so maybe he’s telling the truth about market.”

Derek frowned, only now thinking about how Stiles hadn’t had a day off in the months since he had been Derek’s guard.

“But I KNOW he sneaks some beef from the royal cooks all the time, even with me threatening them! They just laughed at me, Derek. Laughed.”

“You’re not that intimidating, you know.”

“Hey. I am a guard of the Hale court, I have fire in my veins! I am the fiercest of the fierce! Strong as an ox! Deadly as a snake! Swift as a - OW!”

Derek heard Stiles thwack something on the door - probably his elbow or hand from wildly gesturing - and started laughing. Stiles joined him a few seconds later. 

“Fine, fine. whatever. Still. They should be considerate of the captain’s health. There are SO many other things to eat, but does my dad listen? No. He likes cow. Well too bad, dad, I like you alive.”

Derek laughed again, and then stopped himself, because he didn’t do this. He didn’t have pleasant conversations and laugh and didn’t get to know people. He didn’t know what to do with the lightness in his chest, or the loose feeling in his face. He stood abruptly. 

“I’m - I’m going to bed.”

There was a scuffling noise on the other side of the door, presumably Stiles had stood back up. 

“Yeah, sure, sorry, I - yeah, of course.”

Derek waited, not knowing what to say. 

“Thanks for listening,” Stiles said quietly. 

“Uh. Sure.” 

Derek waited until he heard Stiles greet Boyd, who didn’t respond, per usual, and then lay down in his bed, turning the lamp off and staring up at the ceiling. He scowled to himself. He didn’t like this at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for reading this. It means so much when you kudo and comment - you guys are great! See you next week!


	10. The Baker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay, Stilinski. Spill. Whose pants are you trying to get into?”
> 
> Stiles looked up at Erica with wide eyes, genuinely confused. 
> 
> “Pants? What? WHO?” 
> 
> “You. With the tarts. Like, every morning for the last month. Who are you trying to bone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! More characters! More PLOT LINE! Moving riiiiight along here! 
> 
> I hope you guys are still liking this, I was worried about skirting the line between realistic character development (aka Stiles and Derek getting to the point where they like actually talk) and suuuuuuper slooooow exposiiiiitionnnnn. So. I hope this comes to you at a happy medium - more stuff happens next week, and Stiles finds out things... mwah ha haaaaa.

Stiles didn’t even know why he had come to the door that night. It was late, close to the shift change, and he had been burning away at the argument with his father all day. Derek had refused to open the door for lunch, so Stiles slid the food through the slot like he was supposed to. Stiles didn’t like giving Derek things through the sliding door - it felt wrong to him, like Derek was a prisoner. 

Maybe he was. Stiles still didn’t know the whole story, and had seen enough danger in the queen’s eyes to keep his mouth shut. His father had adamantly refused to explain, stating that it was royal business and if Stiles had any sense at all, he’d reign in his curiosity for once in his life. Stiles had thus far been successful, but it was definitely still bothering him. 

 

Stiles wasn’t lying when he told Laura he thought that he and Derek were almost-friends. Stiles had used his typical bulldozing conversation to bully some words out of Derek, often being annoyingly cheerful in a deliberate attempt to goad Derek and make his jaw clench, and once in a while Derek would ask him something, like if he was still working on a particular weaving or if he had been to the bakery that day. It always took Stiles by surprise that the prince remembered ANYTHING about Stiles’ dumb rambling, and that little bit of kindness kept Stiles from giving up talking to him. There had been a few times Stiles had thought about it - ignoring him like Derek seemed to want him to, only talking through the little sliding door for food, never knocking or trying to hand him things (which Derek still wouldn’t take). But then Derek had almost SMILED the other day. He was a puzzle that Stiles wanted to figure out.

The silence had been expected, though, as Stiles knocked and slid to the floor. Before that, Derek hadn’t come to the door for two days, not even when Laura had come by. Maybe Derek hadn’t been feeling well. 

Derek had always been transparent in his annoyance though, so Stiles was sure that if he _was_ bothering Derek, Derek would tell him. So Stiles sat on the floor and started in on his dad, needing to just TELL someone who wouldn’t argue about it. 

Derek’s first words had scared the shit out of him, and he was amazingly proud of himself for not yelling. He hadn’t been completely sure that he didn’t just imagine the sound of Derek sitting down opposite of him on the other side of the door, so hearing the prince’s voice instead of his usual creepy silence was definitely a surprise. Even more surprising had been Derek’s laughter - warm and rich, the first time Stiles had ever heard Derek sound even a little bit unrestrained. 

The abrupt end of the conversation had left Stiles feeling unfulfilled, somehow. Not like it was unusual for Derek to mutter some excuse and cut him off, but - they had been talking, actually talking, and it had felt different. 

The next day, after stopping at Erica’s bakery on the way to the castle, Stiles knocked boldly on the door, both excited and nervous. Boyd gave him a look after a minute, and he started to worry that Derek wouldn’t answer, but then he heard the lock slide, and the door swung inwards. 

“Stiles.”

“Derek! Good morning! Uh - I brought you something.” Stiles thrust a bag at Derek, who flinched, and stepped back. Stiles mentally smacked himself, remembering how obviously uncomfortable Derek is with physical touch. He set the bag on the table next to the door, like usual. 

“What is it?” Derek asked, eyeing the bag. Stiles was taken back to the first time he brought Derek something from the bakery, weeks ago, and smiled at the parallel.

“Just. Something.” Stiles then turned and sat down in his usual chair, pulling out threads from his bag. 

Derek just stood there for a second and then slowly closed the door. Stiles didn’t give in to the urge to look, but he would bet his right hand that Derek glared before the lock clicked shut.

\------------

Hand still on the door handle, Derek glared at the bag on the table next to him. Stiles had been... odd this morning. He hadn’t initiated a conversation or asked a million question, but simply handed over whatever was in the bag and went on with his business. 

Whatever Stiles had brought him was from the bakery Stiles frequented - Derek recognized the bag - and something inside smelled delicious. Carefully, Derek peeled back the layers of paper to find three small, round tarts inside. He lifted one up, inhaling the scent of pastry and fruit, and then couldn’t help but take a bite. 

It was filled with raspberries. 

Unexpectedly, his eyes began to tear up, and he hastily chewed and swallowed, wiping his eyes with his shirt sleeve. Derek took the bag over to his bed and sat back down where he had been sitting before Stiles knocked, and distracted himself with the book he was re-reading. He didn’t realize he had eaten all the pastries until he found himself absent-mindedly pawing at the paper, trying to find another one. He glared at the empty package. 

Derek stood and walked back over to the door, hesitated, and then opened it again. It had only been about an hour, and Stiles looked up from his work, curious. Derek threw the balled up paper wrapper at him. It hit him square in the face, and Stiles mouth dropped open in indignation. Derek just smiled at him, waved, and then slammed the door again. 

And if Derek stood there, hand on the door, grinning like an idiot for far too long, well, then. Stiles didn’t need to know that. 

\-----------

After that, the occurrence of Derek talking to Stiles slowly became a regular thing as Derek began to come out of his room, edging past the door frame when Stiles was working. Scott, and occasionally Isaac - who was still scared shitless of Derek - came by, and Derek even talked to them like a normal human being. Stiles had teased him and earned a scowl, but he hadn’t immediately turned and slammed the door, so Stiles called it a win. 

Laura had gaped at Derek the first few times that she had been there when he stepped out of the room, always closing the door enough that Stiles wouldn’t be able to see inside, but leaving it cracked open for an easy escape. Stiles was almost as surprised by this change as she was; he had thought Derek hated him, but the prince had even gotten to the point where HE was initiating conversation, rather than Stiles. On one memorable occasion, Derek had been out of his room before Stiles got there - both he and Boyd had been standing in total silence, awkwardly staring at the floor, and Stiles had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. 

The raspberry tarts became fairly regular as well, mostly because Stiles was just a nice person, but partially because it was the only thing that made Derek smile. Derek would smirk a lot, especially when he was arguing with Stiles, but the only time Stiles had seen him really, truly SMILE was because of those damn tarts. 

It was too good of a thing to go on forever, though. 

“Okay, Stilinski. Spill. Whose pants are you trying to get into?”

Stiles looked up at Erica with wide eyes, genuinely confused. 

“Pants? What? WHO?” 

“You. With the tarts. Like, every morning for the last month. Who are you trying to bone?”

Stiles, despite every intention not to, could feel his cheeks redden. “Erica! Oh my gods, NO ONE. It’s - they - they’re for the prince!”

Stiles could see that he had made a terrible mistake by the look on Erica’s face. 

“Ooooooh, the PRINCE. I see. Right. Okay. You have a crush on the priiiiince.”

“Erica, no, no no no no. Do not EVEN -”

“You have been talking about him a lot. And the tarts? Every morning, Stiles? EVERY MORNING?”

“He likes raspberries!”

“And you, completely platonically, _you_ , bring him these delicious raspberry tarts every morning and talk about him ALL THE DAMN TIME and even once went on about his abs for like 10 minutes. I cannot believe I didn’t figure it out sooner!”

“You didn’t figure anything out! There’s nothing to figure! NOTHING IS GOING ON!”

“Sure, Stiles,” Erica grinned evilly and leaned forward on the solid countertop, the rising sun making her hair shine gold. “I think it’s about time I met such a - dedicated consumer of my raspberry tarts. He has kept them in high demand for the last month or so.”

“Erica. Hell no.” 

“But, Stiles, what are you worried about? I thought there was nothing going on?”

“THERE ISN’T. Why the hell would he like me?”

Erica just stared at him, and Stiles looked away. 

“Yes, okay, maybe I feel something a little friendlier than I should as his freaking GUARD, but he tolerates me. Barely. I don’t know. He just started talking to me like a normal person and I don’t want you to get all weird and screw that up!”

Erica looked at him thoughtfully. “Can I still come if I promise not to say anything?”

Stiles scoffed, and Erica held up her pinky. He gave her a blank look, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. FINE,” he said and linked his own pinky with hers. “Come with me, watch as I hand the bag over and he slams the door in my face without thanking me like he always does.” 

“Sounds like a plan, let me get rid of my apron!” Erica yelled as she ran into the back. Stiles groaned and hit his head on the counter. This was definitely going to be a mistake. 

\--------------

Stiles had met Erica about a year ago when he was lured into her shop because of the amazing smell wafting out the door. She had been covered in flour and grinned like a cat with a canary when she caught sight of him. He had been appropriately terrified of her from day one, but after she had given him a list of prices, thrown a knife into the wall next to his head, and threatened not to miss if he ever tried to steal from her, they had become instant friends. 

Their schedules didn’t line up at all except for a brief moment in the mornings when Stiles was on his way to the castle and Erica was just putting out her wares for the day. She worked through the night and slept most of the day, her baked goods always selling out before noon. Since opening, Erica’s bakery had quickly become talk of the market, and Stiles had told her more than once that if she hired help, she would make a fortune. 

“I like running a one-woman show, Stilinski. I don’t need anyone to try and tell me what to do.”

“Like anyone would even DARE.”

She had smiled at him and thrown a roll at his head. 

He usually stopped by before his shift started, just like this morning, and they would talk and he would move out of the way while customer after customer, most of them regulars, streamed in and out of the store.

Today, however, Erica hung her “Closed” sign up and pulled Stiles along. 

“Won’t you lose money?”

“I can take a day off.”

“What if someone NEEDS bread this morning, though? What if they need it so bad they break in?”

“No one will break in; everybody got the knife treatment when they first came in the store. They’re all afraid of me.” 

“But how will you know who it was? Someone could get away with it? You should probably go back and check.”

“Stiles, I’m seeing this prince of yours -”

“He’s not MY prince -”

“ -no matter what you say, especially after your description of his abs. Mama needs some eye candy. So shut up.”

Stiles shut up. 

As the two walked through the castle, Erica looked with apparent awe at the tapestries covering the walls, although she had dropped her eyes nervously when the guards had watched them enter together. It was the most demure way Stiles had ever seen Erica act. He forgot, sometimes, that not everyone had practically grown up within the castle walls. 

They turned the corner to the east wing. Boyd was in his usual spot, and Stiles was desperately trying to think of some sort of explanation for Erica when he realized that Boyd was staring at him. Which was weird. Boyd barely acknowledged Stiles on good days. As he got closer, Stiles realized that Boyd was actually staring behind him. At - 

Erica. Who was staring back, open-mouthed.

“Ooooh no,” Stiles said, and Erica slowed as they approached Boyd who looked more terrified than Stiles had ever seen him. Stiles wasn’t even sure he had seen Boyd express emotion before now. 

“Uh, Boyd, this is Erica. A friend. Erica, Boyd, who probably wants to go home as he’s been here all night. 

Erica just nodded, which made Stiles stare at her. Was she - was she BLUSHING RIGHT NOW?

Stiles looked back and forth between the two of them, resisting the urge to hit himself in the head. 

“Are you just going to stand here and stare and each other, or - ?” Stiles asked, which earned him a glare from Boyd and a sharp fingernail in his ribs from Erica. 

“Stiles,” she hissed, and then smiled at Boyd again, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“Would - um. If you’re not - if you’re busy, or not,” Boyd started, “ - I’m on my way through town, I could - could escort you? Back home? Unless you had - you were staying here -”

Stiles stared at Boyd as he fumbled through his words, shocked because he was talking of his own volition - Boyd was even worse than Derek in that aspect - and because he was shifting nervously from foot to foot, and Stiles had never seen him act anything but stoic. 

“No! I’m not staying here with Stiles, don’t be - that’s ridiculous. I don’t even like him.”

“Hey!” Stiles said, getting another fingernail in the side for his indignation. 

Boyd cleared his throat and stuck out his arm, and Erica stepped forward, hesitantly. 

“I thought you wanted to meet the prince. And see his abs.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be dead where he stood. Boyd’s face did something unpleasant for a second, but then Erica spoke up, curling her hand around Boyd’s offered arm.

“Stiles. Why the hell would I even care about anyone else, regardless of royal stature or physical form, when I am on the arm of this gorgeous, broad-shouldered, tall, beautiful, strong-looking -”

“Okay, gods, I get it, please leave before I barf.”

Boyd, for his credit, didn’t exactly look comfortable with the praise, but definitely pulled Erica a little closer. 

“Bye, Stiles, good luck with your man candy!”

“Erica, what the - shut the hell up!”

Boyd snorted a laugh - A LAUGH - as the two of them waltzed off. Stiles shot a panicked looked at the door, hoping beyond hope that the prince was still asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like amazed so many of you people like this. Thank you so much for reading and commenting. And BOYD ACTUALLY SPOKE, YO.
> 
> [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com)


	11. The Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek walked across the room to swing open the door. 
> 
> “Hi - hoooooly shit,” Stiles said, and actually took a step backwards. 
> 
> Damn it, Derek thought, remembering his shirt across the room too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm early enough this week for it to actually still be considered Saturday! What a nice change. 
> 
> I know this is a short chapter, but this is where we start moving. The next chapter is longer. 
> 
> I also just want to tell you that tHERE ARE PAINFUL THINGS TO COME and I CRY FOR THESE TWO IDIOTS I REALLY DO

Derek, of course, had not been asleep. 

He had never contemplated how he looked before - there was no reason to, no one to impress. He was aware of his height, his build, his muscular frame because of all the exercise he did - but Derek had never just looked at himself and wondered if he was attractive. 

He found himself staring at the full length mirror hanging from the wall. He had never seen the point, really, of even having a mirror, barely glancing in the thing each day, but now he slowly turned his body, eyes trailing down his arms and legs, wondering - wondering if Stiles was telling the truth. Did he like how Derek looked? It’s not like Derek hadn’t noticed Stiles’ lingering glances trailing across Derek’s biceps and shoulders whenever Derek crossed his arms, but Derek hadn’t thought anything of it until now. 

Blushing at the thought, and then scowling at his own embarrassment, he slid his shirt off and turned, looking over his shoulder, trying to see his back. He’d never really looked before. It was - a back. A nice back? Derek didn’t know. 

An unexpected image flashed across Derek’s mind - Stiles, pressed against Derek’s back, all warm skin on skin. His lips pressing gently into Derek’s shoulder. 

Derek shook his head and almost violently stepped out of the view of the mirror. Derek knew about sex. He had books. And Laura was very free with her storytelling. But he’d never - he’d never even thought about it for himself. There was no point. Derek hadn’t even had an orgasm before, the desire unknown and foreign to him. 

He caught himself wondering if Stiles had had sex before, and if his face flushed just as red as it did when Derek made fun of him. Derek immediately dropped to the ground and started doing pushups, counting out loud to make himself stop thinking. 

It worked for about 30 minutes, until Stiles himself knocked on the door. _Tap-tap-tap,_ just like always. 

“What,” Derek growled, now doing pull-ups from his bar in the corner. Sweat was beginning to drip down from his hair, making his neck itch.

“Derek? I uh - I have something for you.”

“I don’t want a stupid pastry.”

Stiles was silent for a second, and Derek paused mid-rep, worried he has scared Stiles off. But that was the point. He _wanted_ Stiles to leave him alone. Right. 

“It’s not - well, I mean, I HAVE some if you’re - if you change your mind, but it’s not just - it’s - open the stupid door, you idiot.”

Derek grinned at the wall, despite himself. Stiles’ interactions with him had changed a lot since that first week. He lowered his body to the floor, and wiped his hand across his face before putting on his gloves and walking across the room to swing open the door. 

“Hi - hoooooly shit,” Stiles said, and actually took a step backwards. 

_Damn it,_ Derek thought, remembering his shirt across the room too late.

Stiles’ eyes were wide and slowly making their way down Derek’s chest. Derek was torn between covering himself up and letting Stiles look freely - it gave him a warm feeling in his chest to see the obvious awe Stiles had, looking at him. 

“Stiles,” he said, after a moment. Stiles’ face colored, and he looked at the floor guiltily. Derek found himself strangely disappointed. 

“Sorry, yeah, I - uh. I finished this. Finally.” Stiles thrust a piece of fabric at him, which upon further inspection, was the completed weaving of the sunset Derek had complimented him on months ago. 

Derek, without thinking, took it straight out of Stiles hands. The tips of Derek’s gloved hands brushed against Stiles fingers, and Stiles looked up, shocked. Derek ignored the swooping feeling in his stomach. 

The weaving was simple and elegant. It was perhaps a foot long in both directions, a square of gold and reds and purples, a brilliant sun sinking below a dark hill. Derek wanted to take off the gloves and feel the fabric beneath his fingers, the smooth lines looking soft and silky. He would have to ask Deaton to enchant this next. 

“Do - you like it?” Stiles asked, and Derek realized he hadn’t said anything.

“Yes,” was his immediate response. 

“Oh. Uh, good. That’s good, since I made it for you - yeah,” Stiles said, crossing and uncrossing his arms. 

“Thank you.” 

Stiles beamed at him. Derek’s lips curled upwards in an unconscious response. Stiles smile was infectious and pretty to look at. Derek remembered his fantasy from earlier, those lips pressed to his shoulder, and coughed to dislodge the image from his mind. 

“I - tha - yeah. I’ll be - um. Bye.” And Derek shut the door in Stiles face. 

He stared at the closed door in horror, not knowing what the hell was wrong with him. He could hear Stiles huff out an almost-laugh and then go sit down, scraping his chair on the floor. Derek sighed, and then looked down again at the weaving Stiles had presented him. He reverently traced the line of the hill, enjoying the play of colors in the threads, unsure of what it meant that Stiles would give this to him. They were friends now - at least, Derek hoped they were. Stiles was his only friend that wasn’t related to him. He frowned at the thought. 

Stiles probably didn’t want to be Derek’s friend. He probably only felt pity towards Derek, pity for the poor prince, locked away from the world.

But - 

Derek looked down again at the weaving. Stiles cared for him in some part, giving him this. 

Derek shuffled over to his bookcase to search through his dusty box of tools. He had, when he was younger, gone through a building-things phase, asking Deaton for a hammer and nails and wood. Deaton had only been able to enchant the hammer, so Derek still had to wear the gloves to use the supplies, which led to the passion being short-lived. He still had the hammer and nails, though, and finally found them at the bottom. He paced the room, turning in circles, trying to decide where to hang Stiles’ gift. Over the door was too high, by the window too low. He settled on the spot above the bookcase and took two nails between his teeth. 

The golden curse only affected things touched by Derek’s bare hands - as far as they knew. Derek had never experimented with his ability, and so many of his belongings were enchanted there was no way of telling. His mouth, however, seemed to be safe, as food passed through it just fine. 

Placing the weaving against the wooden part of the castle wall, Derek took a nail from his mouth and lightly tapped it with the hammer, driving it in with increasing force. Once one corner was held up, he took the other nail and held it in place, tapping it with the hammer. 

Then there was a knock at the door. 

Startled, Derek missed his mark and smashed the hammer into his thumb. Even with the cushion of the glove, it HURT, and he yelled in pain, dropping the tool, which of course, landed on his foot. Yelling again, he twisted his body and gracelessly fell to the floor. 

“Derek?!” Came Stiles’ worried voice. 

Derek glared at the door, then the hammer, his foot throbbing in pain. He groaned. 

“DEREK?!” Stiles yelled, and then the door burst open. 

Both men froze. 

Derek had forgotten to lock the door when he had closed it earlier, and Stiles had obviously not expected it to just fly open. He stared down at Derek, who was still shirtless, and took in the scene.

“Did you - are you okay?”

“Yes. Go away.”

“Were you - hanging up my weaving?” Stiles asked, eyes drifting towards the half-hung fabric on the wall. 

“Yes. Go away.”

Stiles’ eyes didn’t stop moving, looking around the room. Derek was suddenly self-conscious. No one had been in here since - since he was a little boy. Stiles turned in a full circle, surveying the place, and Derek couldn’t seem to find the words to tell him to leave. 

“Did you - do you need help? Those - uh, the gloves probably don’t help with maneuverability.”

Derek opened his mouth to tell Stiles to go away again, but Stiles bent down to his level and picked the hammer up from the floor. Derek froze. No one had been so close to Derek since the day his father died. Stiles grabbed the nail from where it had fallen, and stepped over Derek to tap it into the wall. Derek was still motionless, fear of touching Stiles overwhelming him. 

When the weaving was hung, Stiles set the hammer on the bookshelf and took a step back. Derek flinched away, but Stiles didn’t see, looking instead at the weaving up on the wall. 

“How’s that?” Stiles asked. Derek, finally broken from his trance, scrambled upright and fled to the opposite side of the room. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked, turning around. “Are you -” he took a step forward. 

“NO!” Derek yelled at him. Stiles flinched and frowned. Derek needed Stiles to leave. 

“What -”

“Get out Stiles. Now!” 

Stiles frown deepened. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why he needed to get out of here, get out before -

“Stiles, get out! LEAVE! Don’t come near me!”

“Derek, what the hell, man? I’m just trying to -” Stiles stepped closer again and Derek’s heart was in his throat, fear closing in around him. Stiles was going to touch him. Stiles was going to die. 

“No. Get out, Stiles. Don’t touch me. GET OUT! Please!”

The desperation in his voice must have shown through, as Stiles took a step backwards and then glanced at the door. 

“Please, Stiles, please get out, please go, I can’t - you need to - just GO!”

Stiles looked at Derek once more and then left the room, closing the door behind him without so much as a backwards glance. Derek flung himself forward and shackled all the locks on it, even the heavy chains he never used anymore. 

Then Derek collapsed on the floor, his breathing shallow, and found himself staring at himself in the mirror, his chest heaving, eyes wild, and face pale. Derek closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, willing the tears to stay put beneath his eyelids. They did not obey. He trembled for a long time after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys are still enjoying this - hopefully you can forgive me for that...and the other..things...
> 
> ANYway. I am super excited about the next chapter, and am ALSO super excited to add virgin!Derek to the tags. (I'm sure that won't last very long, though....)
> 
> Comments make the sun shine, kudos spin the earth, and I live on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com).


	12. The Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why was Derek so upset when I got near him? It’s - it’s the first time he’s ever yelled at me, and honestly, your majesty, it’s really worrying me.” Stiles finally said. “I’m worried about him.”
> 
> When Queen Talia lowered her hand, the look on her face was filled with such sadness it was unsettling. He had never seen her look so exposed. 
> 
> “I’m sorry, Stiles. I probably should have told you long ago. Just - follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M LATE. SORRY. CRAZY WEEKEND. I had a rehearsal Thursday for a show Friday night, rehearsal all day yesterday for a different show last night, and another show tonight. Kill me. 
> 
> Stiles is starting to figure out what the hell is going on. The next few chapters will be Stiles-centric before we jump back and see what Derek's up to. 
> 
> (Also I had to stick Parrish in there SOMEwhere.)
> 
> Trigger warnings: reference and beginning of a panic attack.

Stiles couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

He had never been on this side of castle, even in all the years he’d been wandering and working there. This wing held all the royal chambers. Aside from Derek’s.

Stiles had never been ordered to come here, and each time he’d met with the queen, she had come to him. Derek’s room was on the east wing, secluded, away from his parents and siblings. So Stiles had never been here before. 

He was nervous, and shaken up, but this was IMPORTANT. He needed to talk to the queen about Derek. 

The royal guards gave him a side-eye when he entered the north section of the castle, but didn’t stop him. He was recognizable, both because of his uniform and because he was Captain Stilinski’s son. So on he walked. However, when he arrived at the grandiose doors that led into the royal’s private suite, he was stopped. 

“Stiles. What are you doing over here?” Parrish asked him as he leaned on his spear. They were only for decoration; Stiles knew for a fact that the tip was cheap metal and easily bent. (He may have gotten in trouble more than once as a kid for ruining the castle weaponry.)

“Hey, I uh. I need to speak with the queen.”

“It’s kind of late,” Parrish said, frowning at him. Stiles had waited until the end of the day, doing his job like he was supposed to, all the while stewing about Derek’s violent reaction to him. 

“I know. I need to speak with her anyway.”

Parrish squinted at him, and sighed. Then he swung the handle on the large door open, just enough to slip inside. Stiles waited alone in the hall, fingers tapping nervously against his sides. 

When the door opened again, Parrish held it wide, allowing Stiles to enter, and the man led Stiles down a short hall and to the left, where there was another door. Parrish knocked on it, and a soft voice said to enter. Parrish raised his eyebrow at Stiles once more and opened the door. 

Seated at a large writing desk, the queen was concentrating on her work, not looking up at Stiles in the doorway. Parrish lightly shoved him and then swung the door closed behind him. Stiles gulped, and then the queen set her quill down. 

“Stilinski,” she said, standing. Stiles forced himself to not take a step backwards as she looked at him. The queen, as much as she was caring and kind, was also actually terrifying. Stiles had forgotten how imposing it was to be in her presence. Regardless of his close relation to the royal family, the queen had always been awe-inspiring, too formidable to approach casually. 

“What can I do for you this evening?” She asked, and Stiles shifted on his feet. 

“Uh, yes, your majesty, sorry about the late hour, I was - I was just, um. There’s a - I wanted to ask, uh.” Stiles’ face heated as the queen’s eyebrows raised slightly. He sounded like an _idiot._ “I wanted to ask you about Derek.”

The other eyebrow lifted, and Stiles could suddenly see Derek in the queen’s features. “What about him?”

“I - why is he locked away? Alone? All the time? Why doesn’t he come out? I have never seen him more than two feet outside his door, and -”

“Laura mentioned you had somehow convinced him to step outside the door frame.”

“Uh, yeah, see, I’m confused by why you’re surprised by that. Is he not allowed to leave?”

“Derek stays locked up by his own request, against my wishes.”

Stiles hadn’t been expecting that, so he paused. The queen sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. 

“Why was he so upset when I got near him? It’s - it’s the first time he’s ever yelled at me, and honestly, your majesty, it’s really worrying me.” Stiles finally said. “I’m worried about him.”

When Queen Talia lowered her hand, the look on her face was filled with such sadness it was unsettling. He had never seen her look so exposed. 

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I probably should have told you long ago. Just - follow me.”

Stiles was confused, for a moment, because the queen turned back, away from the door, and approached the wall by the mirror. His mouth dropped open when she pressed one of the stones inwards, and a door appeared in the wall. 

“Holy shit,” he said, and then slapped a hand over his mouth. The queen snorted in amusement, grabbed a candle from her bedside table, and stepped through the door, heading down a dark staircase. Stiles, after a brief hesitation, followed after her, trailing a hand along the cool wall. 

The stairs went down into a thin hallway, which seemed to go on forever. After about two minutes in the dark, Stiles had come up with four destinations the queen could possibly be leading him to, and three of those led to his execution. 

_I am going to get MURDERED by the QUEEN. Murdered! Tortured in some secret torture room! I shouldn’t have asked about the prince. Why the hell did I need to know anything? Why? I don’t need to know! And now I’m going to die! Because I couldn’t not know! Fuck. My dad is gonna be pissed. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die._

Stiles couldn’t tell when the queen stopped in the darkness, so he walked into her, but before he could apologize, she opened another door in the wall. The small room it led to was dark as well. The queen lifted her candle up to light a torch on the wall, and Stiles stepped inside after her, gaping at what he saw.

There was a statue in the corner, and Stiles could only assume that it was supposed to be the late King Richard. He couldn’t remember exactly what the king looked like, but was struck with how similar Derek’s face was to the one portrayed - the man was made entirely from what looked like gold, and seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. 

Out of nowhere, a memory popped into Stiles head and his heart began to thunder in his chest. A statue of his mother, made of gold, lying in pieces on the floor. That had been the night of his first panic attack, and he could feel another one approaching fast. 

“Take a deep breath, Stiles,” the queen murmured, and he automatically obeyed her. She sat in the chair and Stiles sank to the floor, staring at the statue of the king. 

“I - I don’t understand.” 

“Well. That’s expected, honestly. I was very strict about what you were to be told. I needed to keep Derek safe, and the curse a secret.”

“The - Derek - curse?” Stiles was having trouble forming full sentences. 

“The curse - the Midas curse.” The queen leaned forward, staring Stiles down. “I assume you’ve heard the rumors.”

Stiles nodded blankly. 

“The curse isn’t so much a rumor as a reality for my family. Generations ago, Midas made a deal with the gods - he was a selfish piece of shit -” Stiles choked, “- and prayed that his touch would hold the power to change things to gold. The idiot didn’t think of the repercussions of such a request. He starved to death; anything he touched turned to gold.”

Stiles’ mind flashed to Derek and the gloves he wore at all times. “So - how -”

“There was a catch, though. Midas also asked the gift be passed to his first born son, and his, and his, down through his descendents. So the royal line -”

“-has been passed through the daughters,” Stiles finished. He leaned back, propping himself up on his hands. 

“Correct.” The queen leaned back in her chair as well. “Derek is the first born son of the Hales - so he inherited the curse. I never - I never wanted to lock him away, I never wanted him to isolate himself from the world the way he has. But something happened when he was a little boy - he -”

The queen paused, eyes flicking over to the statue of the king-- which Stiles was beginning to think was not, in fact, a statue. 

“He - he turned the king into gold?” Stiles whispered, shock making his voice waver. “His - father - oh my gods.”

“Derek, he - he turned his best friend, Paige, accidentally, and when Richard ran to help him, Derek turned him as well. Unthinking. He was just a child, and had no idea what would happen. It was - my fault. My fault for not telling him.”

“That’s - the king?”

“Yes.”

“But - the funeral! You - he -”

“I couldn’t - I couldn’t bear it. So, I selfishly brought him here. You are one of three people that know about it, so I trust you’ll keep this information private.” Stiles nodded, and the queen continued. “We did burn Paige’s body - and your mother’s.”

Stiles nearly fell over, breath whooshing out of him, and his mouth dropped open again. “What?”

“Do you remember the night your mother died, Stiles?”

He nodded, looking down, remembering her face, her eyes - and the dead, golden stare that had been in his nightmares for years afterwards. 

“That was the night Derek was born.”

Stiles started counting his breaths, in and out, not wanting to black out in front of the queen. It was hard to concentrate, though, when his world was being turned upside down.

“Claudia was my best friend, Stiles. I’m sure you were aware of that.”

“Y-yeah. I know.”

“She was also my midwife, and my personal seer.”

“Seer? She was just - my dad told me...she was just a spark. How -”

“Claudia couldn’t see everything, you’re right. But she had a vision about the baby, so we all thought it was a girl. We were unprepared for a boy - unprepared for the curse.”

“She didn’t know it would be Derek,” Stiles supplied. 

“I blame myself. I should have made sure - I should have made her prepare more carefully, it was -”

“It was an accident,” Stiles interrupted, and looked over at the queen. “You are not to blame. Neither is Derek. Does - does he know?”

“No,” Talia said softly. 

Stiles sucked in a breath. He had come to care for Derek, unexpectedly, Stiles’ chest felt tight, thinking about 8-year-old Derek, not knowing the power his hands had, turning his friend and father. It was heartbreaking.

“Is there - is there something we can do? He can come out of the castle, I’ll go with him. I’ll - carry stuff for him and make sure he’s okay, and -”

“You think I have not tried to get my son to leave his room in the last 15 years? He refuses. He is locked away of his own volition, and I have come to the point where I can’t argue with him about it anymore.”

“There has to be a - a cure? Or something? Can we cast a spell? Can we -”

“Deaton has enchanted many of Derek’s possessions already - but enchanting people is very different from enchanting things. Soul magic is dangerous, and it would kill Deaton to try.”

“There has to be something we can do!” Stiles yelled, and found that he was standing. The queen didn’t look surprised at his outburst. 

“Stiles. I brought you here to tell you the truth, and the truth isn’t fair. We can do nothing to help Derek except make his life easier.”

Stiles remained silent, glaring at the floor. 

“Perhaps you should take the next few days off, talk things over with your father. I can -”

“Wait, my father knows? About the curse?”

Talia didn’t answer, but her silence was telling enough. 

“He knew? And didn’t tell me? He - he wouldn’t -”

“If you want the next few days off, I can have Sir Parrish take your post,” Talia said, stopping Stiles. “I realize this is a lot of information, and it may take some adjusting. I hope you’ll still be able to be Derek’s guard. He has grown fond of you, and the list of people he is fond of is very short.”

“Yes, your majesty. I - I would like a day. Or two. But I’ll come back, I promise. I’ve - grown fond of Derek as well.”

The queen smiled. “I can see that. I’m glad - you’re very good for him, Stiles.”

Stiles blushed, but didn’t know what to say. 

They were silent on the way back to the queen’s chambers, and Parrish walked with Stiles down the long hallway and out the door.

“Have a good night!” Parrish called after him, but Stiles didn’t answer, lost in thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading - I'm glad you're enjoying this as much as I am. The warnings may change as we get into the meat of the story (heh), just so you know. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi. 
> 
> MORE TO COME


	13. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mom didn’t die because she was sick, did she?”
> 
> John lowered his book in surprise, expecting anything but that to come out of his son’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeyyyy I'm late again. Oops. This is (one of) the Stilinski Family Feels chapter(s); prepare yourself. 
> 
> PLEASE NOTICE THE UPDATED TAGS. If you need trigger warnings, they are in the end notes.
> 
> also HOLY SHIT GUYS I hit 100 subscribers so like THANK YOU??????

John Stilinski was still awake, reading a book at the table when his son got home. He looked up as Stiles entered and then frowned when his son slowly closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle. 

“You okay, son?” John asked when Stiles didn’t turn around to face him.

“Mom didn’t die because she was sick, did she?”

John lowered his book in surprise, expecting anything but that to come out of his son’s mouth.

“She wasn’t sick at all, was she?” Stiles said, turning. “You know, it never made sense to me, even then, because I had seen mom sick before, and she hadn’t been acting sick at all. Even on that last day, she seemed fine.”

“Stiles -”

“Why didn’t you tell me, dad? We got into so many fights about it! It’s not like you never had a chance to say anything! And what about that stupid golden statue bullshit? ‘It was a present for your mom, Stiles, but I got rid of it because it makes me miss her.’ Wow, dad, great cover story.”

“Son, I -”

“I spoke with the queen earlier.”

John stayed silent. 

“She told me what happened. Everything. Because I was worried about Derek, who has somehow become one of my closest friends and apparently _KILLED MY MOTHER_.”

Stiles started to breathe harshly and covered his face with his hands, and John was on his feet before he knew he was moving. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, and they both sank to the floor, Stiles staring unseeing, breathing labored and far too fast. 

“Stiles, son, look at me - Stiles, I need you to listen to my breaths. Listen, one...two….three…”

It had been years since this had happened, and it never got easier to watch his son become helpless and panicked. John kept counting his breaths until Stiles was matching him, and then he started talking, just saying the things that popped into his head to further calm Stiles down. Stiles clung to him, and listened silently. 

“She loved you so much, son. You had no idea. She was entranced by you. Everything you did made her laugh. Do you remember that? Even when you were in trouble, you used to make this face - you kind of still make the same face when you’re arguing with me - but she couldn’t even stay mad at you. She loved you so much. And she would be so proud of you, just like I am. So proud of how smart you are and how good you are and how tall and handsome - you got your looks from her, that’s for sure. Your eyes are just like hers, Stiles. You have so much of her in you…”

\---

“Can you tell me? About the - what happened?” Stiles asked later, wrapped up in John’s favorite jacket, a hot cup of tea in his hand. John sat across from him, leaning on the table, and his heart ached at the thought. He sighed.

“You mom, she - she was a spark. You know. She could do little things with fire and light and liked to scare the crap out of me. She also had a little bit of premonition - it was spotty, not real impressive by magic standards, but she knew things, sometimes. She knew I was gonna ask her to marry me, totally ruined the surprise.” Stiles smiled at that, and John returned it. 

“She had been friends with Talia - uh, the queen - since they were in school. Talia’s parents didn’t approve, but they were both so stubborn that they - well. They were still friends when she met me and had you and all. And so when Talia got pregnant, she spent the first couple months meditating, spent a lot of time with Deaton - trying to see the baby. After a while she gave up - I remember her coming back home, pissed as hell, yelling about inconsistency and limited ability and how the gods must have it in for her. But then, once she gave up, she started seeing things. Little things, not enough to know what the baby was gonna be. It was driving her mad. But one night I wake up to her slapping my shoulder, yelling excitedly about Talia and a girl, and then she’s running out of the house barefoot, and I - well. I won’t lie. I turned over and went back to sleep.” 

“Dad!”

“What? She was fine!”

“Yeah, but what if -”

“Everyone around here knew her. She wasn’t in any danger.”

“It was the middle of the night! Robbers! Thieves!” John gave Stiles an unimpressed look. “Uh.... wolves?”

John just looked at him, and the kid sipped his tea innocently. 

“She was going to see Talia, and when she got back, she woke me up again - berated me for letting her wander the night alone, so you can stop giving me that look - and told me that she had seen the baby, and it was another girl. She was ecstatic, and so was Talia, and we all relaxed about it.”

“How did you find out about the curse?” Stiles asked, leaning his elbows on the table. 

John looked down, smiling at the memory. “Well, kid, when we were your age, the four of us - Richard, Talia, your mom, and me - we would sneak food and wine in this old abandoned storage space in one of the castle’s kitchens and stay up late, getting totally drunk, and - ”

“Aren’t you supposed to not tell your kid these stories?” Stiles said with a smirk, and John rolled his eyes. 

“I know all about you, Scott, and the mead at the last festival, so you can keep your mouth shut.”

Stiles’ eyes widened a little, and he took another sip of tea. 

“Uh huh. So we’re up drinking and playing games - Talia always snuck us in with these ridiculous stories, but I’m pretty sure the cooks knew what was really going on. Talia had the whole castle wrapped around her finger, so we got away with everything. Anyway, this one night, we were daring each other to do things, and then we ended up at truth or dare -” 

“How the tables have turned,” Stiles mumbled.

“ - and Richard got dared to stand on his head, and, oh kid - Talia, she was a mischievous thing back then. She dared Claudia to kiss me, and before I could even react, there she was, planting one right on my lips. That was our first kiss.” He paused, smiling at the memory. “I fell in love with her so fast - I, uh. Well.”

Stiles was staring at him, a soft smile on his face. John so rarely talked about Claudia. It still set an ache in the middle of his chest, just thinking about her. 

“Anyway. There was a dare to tell a secret you’d never told before. Talia swore us to secrecy, threatened to seal it in blood - and then she told us the whole stupid mess that ancestor of hers put her family in. She was terrified of having a son. Her older brother, Andrew, he - he had the curse, and he hadn’t been able to handle it. He - well. They found him in his room. The cover story was that he suddenly fell ill, and Deaton caught it too late.”

Stiles stared down at his empty cup, thinking about how hard it must have been for Talia to have a brother die and then have a son with the same set of circumstances. She appeared unshakable.

“We four and the royal family were the only ones that knew - other than Deaton, of course - how he had really died. And we were some of the few that knew that the curse was real. When - when your mom died, Talia came to me and asked me to keep the details of the curse quiet. She didn’t want the rumors to spread, didn’t want other kingdoms to learn about what could potentially be a vulnerability. I - I wanted to tell you, son, I swear I did, but - it was almost easier. To not talk about it. I, I miss her so damn much, Stiles, I -”

And then his son’s arms wrapped around him, and he could feel Stiles’ tears soaking into his shirt, along with his own. 

“Dad, I - I miss her too. I miss her too.”

\---

“You should talk to Deaton,” John said quietly. They were sitting in front of the fireplace, shoulder to shoulder, just watching the flames. 

“Why?”

“He knows more about the spark, about your mom. He could tell you more about Derek too.”

Stiles nodded slightly, his arms around his legs, chin tucked between his knees. 

“You mom thought you might have a spark too. Did she ever tell you?”

“No,” Stiles whispered. His eyes were wide. “Why?”

“I don’t know, kid. She was the one with the premonitions. Deaton will know more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: brief mentions of an original character committing suicide before Stiles was born; Stiles experiences a panic attack - his dad helps him through it.
> 
> I know this was a short chapter, the next one is a lot longer (and DEATON actually starts aNSweRING quESTions WHAT) - BUT - I am moving across the country on Thursday, so like..I'm not 100% I'll be able to post it on Saturday. I will try my hardest. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com), yo.


	14. The Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles blew out a breath, overwhelmed with the information.
> 
> “This is all far more complex than what I’m telling you now, but we will eventually delve further into the subjects while you are under my tutelage.”
> 
> “You - want to train me?” Stiles asked, surprised. 
> 
> “Of course - is that not why you are here?” 
> 
> “I’m here for some answers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back! And moved into my new apartment! Yay!
> 
> MYSTERY! INTRIGUE! MAGIC! We're starting to delve into the theory and logic of magic in this 'verse - my sib and I have had extensive conversations about it after a comment was made - so thank you, [jcbmcdrmtt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jcbmcdrmtt/pseuds/jcbmcdrmtt), for making us think. 
> 
> And as always, thanks to my betas, apollonjoras, lingeringwanderer and wondrousstrangesnow for your editing/commenting/screaming plot lines and headcanons in the car with me.

Magic was a mystery to the general public. Mages were extremely rare, and in the Hale kingdom, Deaton was the only one. Claudia had been training as a potential mage, but had only just started to understand her spark when she died. 

Sparks were more common, though hardly the majority, and they hardly ever given enough attention to become anything impactful. Any spark could be taught petty tricks - sleight of hand, card games, lighting fires - but to cast spells, one needed to be trained by a mage. Spells and enchantments required energy from the caster, but very specific and focused energy - a spell used without the right focus could go very wrong very quickly. That’s why magic was shrouded in such mystery - controlling it was impossible for most, and a foreign concept to the sparks that had no mage to teach them. 

Claudia had had no idea she was a spark until Deaton had showed up at her parent’s house when she was fifteen and told her she had - _potential,_ and invited her to the castle. Her parents had been skeptical but Claudia’s curiosity and persistence had eventually won out, like it often did. 

She started working with Deaton three times a week, learning how to control her mind, what herbs best helped spells along, how to start fires with just her hands and thoughts. She was fascinated and soaked up the information like a sponge. Deaton was vaguely pleased with her progress, speaking only in broad terms about the previous sparks he had trained. He also had given her four different answers when she asked him how old he was, and Claudia had no way of knowing which one was true, if any. 

Into the second month of her training, she literally tripped into the crown princess, and they both ended up crashing down the stairs, dresses torn, hair a mess, and a broken arm each. Talia had glared daggers at Claudia the entire time they had been in the infirmary getting their arms wrapped, but Claudia had glared right back. Talia had at first seemed surprised and then pleased at Claudia’s impertinence. Claudia’s mother would have been ashamed at her daughter’s behavior, but it earned Claudia a friend. Talia confessed later than no one had ever glared back at her except her siblings, and Claudia felt oddly proud. 

The two became thick as thieves, inseparable, causing mischief and chaos wherever they were - Claudia with her spark, and Talia with her position of power. 

Then Claudia started to have the dreams. 

She thought nothing of it at first. They were just dreams: Talia smiling at a young man with the beginnings of a beard, the queen asking Claudia to clean up a broken tea cup, one of the guards’ sons shyly asking Claudia to dance. But then the dreams started to happen in real life and Claudia went to Deaton for an explanation. 

“It’s very unusual for sparks to have premonitions. You are more special than I initially realized, Claudia. You have great power.”

The only problem was that she couldn’t seem to control them. All of the visions were just flashes, random pieces of the future. She couldn’t concentrate on something and know what was going to happen. It was frustrating beyond belief.

“What’s the POINT if I can’t see what I want?!” She yelled one day, arguing with John Stilinski about her gift. He and Richard had been recent additions to their group, tagging along with the girls and usually getting blamed for their shenanigans. 

“Maybe you’re not supposed to see what you want. Maybe there’s another reason.”

“Like what, John?” She asked, rolling her eyes.

He just shrugged and gave her the soft smile that always made her want to kiss him. 

(They hadn’t kissed yet - that would happen tomorrow, in a dark room lit only by a few candles. He would be too nervous, and she would kiss him first.)

Then she saw the snake. 

Talia, Richard, John, and Claudia (along with far too many guards at the queen’s insistence) were spending the night out in the forest, under the stars. It was summer and sort of an adventure, and they had a few days grace from their lessons, so camping it was. 

Claudia had had a dream the night before about Talia being bit by a snake, screaming in agony and then falling into a fire. She had forgotten about it, dismissed it as a nightmare. But suddenly Talia was across from her, her face lit by firelight, and Claudia remembered the exact scene from the dream. 

“Talia. Get up. Get up and come over here now,” Claudia said, softly but firmly, eyes imploring. Her face must have also been written in fear because Talia just creased her eyebrows together and did was she was told. 

“What, Dia? What’s going -”

“Richard, get back. John, get your sword out.”

“Claudia, what the hell is -”

And then the snake’s head appeared from the log that Talia had been sitting on, slithering out quickly. Talia yelled and John jumped quickly towards it, severing its head from its body. 

“It’s dead. And also very deadly,” Richard said, leaning over the log to look.

“How did ….you saw it,” Talia said, turning her eyes to Claudia once more. “You saved my life.”

Claudia was shaking a little bit, and John put a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“Claudia, you saved me.”

After that, Claudia became the “Personal Spark and Seer” to crown princess Talia, and the queen and king had no more complaints about her. 

\------------

“I was wondering when you would finally seek me out.”

Deaton had his back turned to the door, and had quite the penchant for dramatics. The morning after the heart to heart with his father, Stiles had come to the small house adjacent to the castle to seek out the mysterious mage and get some answers.

“Why not come to me? You came to my mother.”

“Ah, yes, but -” Deaton said, turning towards Stiles. “ - she was more oblivious than you are now. There was no history of magic in her family previously.”

“So where did it come from?”

“Mr. Stilinksi, magic is - a fickle spirit. It comes and goes as it pleases.”

“You speak of it as if it were alive.”

“But it is alive - just as alive as you or I.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sit down,” Deaton gestured to the chair across from where he was standing. “I’ll explain.” 

Magic wasn’t so much an entity of it’s own as it was an energy in the world, Deaton explained. There was no ‘using up’ magic - it’s existence was constant, the amount never varying. Each person had a natural amount of magic in them, some greater than others - those with certain amounts were sparks, and had the potential to become mages. Mages could store great amounts of energy within their beings; sparks could store small amounts. There were also objects, charms, which could hold energy in different levels, depending on their capacity for power. Most charms were small - necklaces, rings, books, etc. They had the potential to hold a handful of magic, less than any human naturally held. These were for party tricks, healing small wounds, seeing flashes of the future. Sparks could do all of those things naturally, without the help of a charm. However, there were in existence the elder charms - pieces of great worth that could hold enough magic to double a mage’s power. They were rare, hard to get, hard to replenish, and, quite often, literally worth killing for. Deaton had used one of his elder charms when Derek was born - he had used a previous one for prince Andrew when he was born. Deaton had been with the cursed family for three generations, and his master before him had been with the family even longer.

“What happened to him? Your master?” Stiles asked. 

“What happened to _her,_ you mean. And I was just getting to that. Have you heard of soul magic, Stiles?”

“Very briefly. Something to do with the difference between magic on objects and magic on people? It’s really dangerous. Right?”

“You are correct. Soul magic is the most dangerous form of magic one can practice - it regularly kills those who try. Soul magic is the potential act of permanently changing someone - down to their very soul - and takes so much energy that, most of the time, it kills both the caster and the soul they were trying to change.”

“What do you mean, most of the time?”

Deaton stared, blank-faced, for a moment. 

“You’ve heard of the mage wars in school, correct?”

Stiles nodded. 

“What you probably don’t know is why exactly they happened. We keep the reasons vague as to not promote continuation of the dark mages. You see, Stiles, magic itself cannot be good or evil - it is an energy, an essence of sorts. However, the caster - the mage, the spark - they use the magic to their own will. When a caster uses too much magic, as in the employment of soul magic, one of two things can happen - the caster dies, drained completely of energy and life - or - the pull of the magic rips a hole in their very being. It creates a sort of loop, a continuous river of magic through the caster. The constant push of magic allows them to still perform and cast spells, making them all the more stronger with the endless supply. But it also constantly pulls energy from the caster, culminating in an endless, unyielding hunger for more. The hunger drives them mad; always searching for more, always needing more magic. It becomes a deadly addiction and eventually will kill the mage that succumbs to it. The wars were fought between who we now refer to as the Dark Mages - a group who believed soul magic was something that could be harnessed and used - and the group I remain a part of, those who believe that soul magic is something we should respect the boundaries of. Honestly, one of the only reasons the Dark Mages did not prevail was because so many of them were destroyed by their own hubris.”

Stiles blew out a breath, overwhelmed with the information.

“This is all far more complex than what I’m telling you now, but we will eventually delve further into the subjects while you are under my tutelage.”

“You - want to train me?” Stiles asked, surprised. 

“Of course - is that not why you are here?” 

“I’m here for some answers.”

Deaton leaned back against his desk, which was covered with dusty manuscripts and books and bottles. “Be my guest,” he said, raising a brow. 

“I do want to learn about magic and being - being a spark. But I want to also know about the curse. The Midas Curse. The uh, the queen told me about it, about Derek and about how my mother really died.”

“I am sorry for your loss. She was a wonderful woman and a talented spark.”

“How - what happened? I thought - Queen Talia said that she could’ve prepared more? I don’t understand what went wrong. Can you protect against the curse? Is that soul magic? Is that why she died?”

“Stiles,” Deaton said, holding up a hand. Stiles shut his mouth and sat back in the chair. 

“There is a spell, a very temporary spell, that your mother was to use when she was helping birth the prince. But because of her vision, she didn’t prepare well enough. Manipulating magic of that magnitude takes great focus, especially for a spark, and she wasn’t really expecting to need it.”

“Why was the vision wrong? She saw a girl, didn’t she? Why didn’t she see Derek?”

“Her sight was fickle - who she saw was Cora, two years later.”

“Had that ever happened before? Why was it so far in the future?”

“That, I do not know. I know Claudia had had several visions of things that didn’t make sense to her - she kept a journal, I believe, of the things she saw and could not explain. I don’t know what became of it.”

Stiles was quiet for a moment, thinking. 

“I saw her that day - I remember her moving funny, and acting strange. Why didn’t she turn the moment she touched Derek? Isn’t that how the curse works?”

Deaton shrugged slightly. “The curse is actually in _Derek’s_ touch - the only part of him that is capable of turning things to gold is his hands - at least, that was true for the previous afflicted princes. Derek is hardly willing to experiment with his touch. And as for your mother - I cannot answer for sure. What I believe happened was that the spell, when performed incorrectly, became a decelerant rather than a prevention. She turned very slowly, which is why she seemed normal until you found her that night.” 

Stiles force himself to breath slowly, flashes of memory making his heart race. He had nightmares for years afterwards, those cold, golden eyes staring him down. 

“Can you teach me?”

“That is what I implied earlier.”

“No - can you teach me the spell? The curse prevention thing?”

Deaton tilted his head. “I am curious as to why you would need to know. The prince doesn’t allow anyone close enough to touch, and constantly wears his gloves.”

“I just - I want the option. In case,” Stiles added, quietly.

“Well, we’ll have to see how powerful your spark is first - it took your mother months to master it.”

 

\---------------------------------------

 

Stiles walked home that night, playing with his new learned skill of manipulating flame on his fingers - he could snap fire in and out of existence with a mere thought, if focused the right way. For all his inconsistent thoughts and distracted tendencies, magic was something so interesting and powerful that he had lost hours and hours in Deaton’s library, pouring over books with the mage and learning how to think like a spark. Deaton seemed surprised and vaguely pleased that Stiles started to pick up things so quickly, and even told Stiles that the fact he could manipulate fire on his first day was quite a feat. Stiles wanted to keep pushing, further and further, but Deaton insisted he go home, eat, sleep, and come back in the morning. 

When he swung open the door, both his father and Scott turned to him, looking expectant. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Are you a magic person now?” John asked, and Scott grinned. 

“Yep. Bonafide spark, at your service.” And then Stiles lit all his fingers on fire.

“HOLY - STILES! You’re one fire!” Scott yelled, jumping to his feet. 

Stiles started laughing, and snapped the flames out. Scott glared, and his dad did the weird frowning smirk he always did when Stiles had misbehaved but John still thought it was funny.

“Don’t DO that, man!”

“Come ON, Scotty, I can create magic fire with MY MIND. I am going to be doing that a lot. It’s really cool, watch!” Stiles said, sticking out a finger. He made the flame appear and disappear several times over, and Scott did look kind of impressed. 

“Fine. It’s cool, I guess.”

“Your mom used to do the same thing, you know. Freak people out by lighting random parts of her body on fire. Just a tip, kid - don’t try it anywhere on your face. There was a year there where Claudia didn’t have eyebrows for her trouble.”

“No face - got it, Dad.” Stiles grinned at his father, and John stood up to hug him. 

“I’m proud of you, son,” he whispered into Stiles’ hair, and Stiles felt warmth bloom in his chest. They parted, and John made allusions to having to work in the morning, to which both boys booed, but he waved them off and headed to bed. 

“So. Update me. Why are you magic? What’s up with Derek? And your dad is just casually bringing up your mom now? He never does that.”

Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulder. 

“The last two days have been one hell of a ride, my friend. Have a seat, I’ll give you the run down, and then you can moon about Allison to me. I’m sure you’ve written a new poem about her chin or something by now.”

“You know me so well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to enjoy reading this! I love your comments! Come visit me on the [tumbles](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com).
> 
> See you next week!


	15. The Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did Stiles - say anything about...did he say anything?”
> 
> “He came to me, wanted to know about you. And why you ordered him away from you so harshly.”
> 
> Derek looked down.
> 
> “He - I - I - ”
> 
> “I told him the truth.”
> 
> Derek’s gaze shot back up to meet his mother’s, surprise and betrayal shooting through his chest. 
> 
> “Mom!”
> 
> “He deserved to know, Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO DARLINGS  
> I'm sorry I'm late (again) but my birthday was this last week and my friends and I went downtown to celebrate last night and I got reaaaally wasted so here we are. I have drank a lot of water and eaten greasy food so I feel like a human again. 
> 
> The only warnings in this chapter is the general blaming-of-self that surrounds one Derek Hale. As always, more angst and a side-serving of fluff will continue to be the theme. Sorry-not-sorry.

Derek was starting to get worried. 

He hadn’t had a friend in a very, very long time, and having friends when you’re a little kid and having friends when you’re an adult are very different situations. Stiles had become someone he looked forward to seeing, and someone he apparently would start missing after he didn’t show up for four days. Sir Daehler was filling in for him, and Derek hated Daehler - no particular reason, the guy just seemed suspicious. Derek was worried that Stiles was mad, so he wouldn’t come back for a day of two, but now he was honestly worried Stiles would never come back, and it was completely Derek’s fault. 

He was stretched out on his bed, holding a book in his hands but not really reading it, more like staring at the words on the page, when there were three short taps on the door. Derek closed his eyes and exhaled, then rose to put on his gloves to greet his mother at the door.

“Derek,” Talia said with a warm smile. “How are you, baby? Can I come in?”

“No,” Derek said out of habit, and shifted his gaze over to where Daehler was sitting. In Stiles’ chair. Where Stiles should be. 

“What’s wrong?” Talia asked, and Derek looked back at her. 

“Nothing.”

She raised her eyebrow, and he mirrored the motion.

“Derek, you haven’t been so short on words since - well. In months. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Where is Stiles?”

Talia eyes widened minutely, and then she pursed her lips. “Are you sure I can’t come in?” She asked again, which was a surprise. 

“If you don’t want him to hear it, make him leave.”

Daehler turned an offended face towards Derek, who was blatantly glaring at him. The queen sighed, waving her hand, and Daehler stood, walking down the hall and out of sight. 

“What,” Derek said. 

“Honey, this isn’t something that’s easy to talk about. I told Stiles he should take a few days off. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Is he sick? Is his dad - is Captain Stilinski okay?”

“They’re both in fine health, as far as I know.”

“Did Stiles - say anything about...did he say anything?”

“He came to me, wanted to know about you. And why you ordered him away from you so harshly.”

Derek looked down.

“He - I - I - ”

“I told him the truth.”

Derek’s gaze shot back up to meet his mother’s, surprise and betrayal shooting through his chest. 

“Mom!”

“He deserved to know, Derek.”

Derek crossed his arms. “How - much, did you tell him. Exactly.”

“I told him more than I told you.”

“What?”

“Baby - I - I’m sorry, I never told you before. I didn’t want to increase your burden, and then your father - and - “ She reached up to touch Derek’s face, and he flinched away. “Derek, I need to tell you something, and you need to know that it’s not your fault.”

“Did something happen to Stiles?” Derek asked, cold dread filling his lungs. 

“In - a way. A long time ago. The day you were born.”

“I don’t understand.”

Talia nodded once, putting a hand up to cover her mouth for a moment, thinking. It was a tick that all of her children had started copying at a young age, and Derek found himself wanting to mirror it. 

“Do you mind if I sit? You could join me.”

“No. And no.”

Talia sighed and turned to sit in the chair Daehler had vacated. _Stiles’ chair,_ Derek thought again, though the chair didn’t technically belong to Stiles. It had just sort of become his chair in the last months. It had been more than half a year since Stiles had become his guard.

“Did Stiles ever mention his mother to you?”

Derek leaned against the left side of the doorframe, arms still crossed. “A few times. She died when he was a kid.”

“Claudia. She - she was my best friend.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. Stiles had said something about their moms knowing each other, but Derek didn’t realize that they were so close. 

“My parents did not approve of a crown princess fraternizing with a mason’s daughter, but she was taking magic lessons from Deaton in the castle and we ran into each other. Literally. She broke my arm. Stiles takes after her more than his father. He looks just like her.”

Derek tried picturing Stiles with long hair and a softer jaw. He frowned. It didn’t look right. 

“She was a spark, just like Stiles.”

“Stiles is a spark? What? I didn’t - he never - “

“He didn’t know, honey. Deaton informed me yesterday that Stiles had started working with him on expanding his magical abilities.”

“Is that why he hasn’t been here?”

“That is - one of the reasons. I’m afraid there’s something else.”

“Mother, if you’re going to tell me, just tell me. Stop avoiding it, I’m not a child anymore.”

“You were never really a child, Derek.” She looked up at him with sad eyes, and his mind flashed, for a second, back to the day she had agreed to his demands to stay locked up. A six year old boy, telling his mother to not let him near anyone else and to never touch him again. Time had worn her features and lightened her hair a bit, but she still had the same resigned look on her face then. 

“Claudia was my midwife as well. She helped birth you. With her spark, she could see flashes of the future, and had seen me bear a girl. We all assumed it was your birth, but she had actually foreseen Cora. You were a surprise.”

Derek had a sudden, terrible thought, but shoved it down, not wanting to jump to conclusions. 

“There is a spell, a temporary one, that allows the caster to be immune to the effects of the curse. Deaton showed Claudia how to cast it in case of my pregnancy producing a boy - the curse only affects the first born son, you know that. Claudia learned the spell, but because she had seen a girl, and we all assumed...well - she hadn't prepared the spell correctly. I don’t know much about magic, but apparently casting takes a great deal of intense focus, and without the correct amount of energy, spells are far less powerful than they were intended to be, or they don’t work at all.”

Derek was openly staring at his mother now, his posture stiff, eyes wide in horror. 

“She - you - when you were born, we didn’t - “

“I touched her. I turned her to gold,” Derek whispered, reeling at the fact.

Talia snapped her mouth closed and nodded. When Derek’s hand gripped the doorframe, tight enough to hear the wood creak, she stood. 

“Derek, baby, it wasn’t your fault - you were a baby. Literally a moment old, you didn’t do anything -”

“But I did. I turned - I KILLED Stiles mother. My first act in this world was murder.”

“Derek! Don’t say that! That’s not what -”

“Yes it IS, mother, that’s what happened! I didn’t know what I was doing but I still did it! I murdered the mother of my only friend in the world, and he - he -”

Derek paused, hands coming up to cover his eyes. “That’s why he’s not coming back. You told him.”

“I had to tell him the truth, Derek - he was the one that found her, there was no way I could avoid -”

“And now he’s not coming back. He shouldn’t. I murdered his mother, he has every right to hate me.”

“Derek, please.” Talia put a hand out, lightly grabbing Derek’s shoulder. He shook her off, almost violently. 

“Don’t you touch me,” he spat, and reveled in the startled step she took backwards. “Don’t touch me, mother. I might kill you too.” And he slammed the door before he could see the tears pooling in her eyes. 

Derek slumped against the back of the door, sitting on the stone floor. His hands hung in front of him, and he stared at them. His curse. His penance for killing - willingly or not. He deserved the curse. He deserved this room. He deserved to be deserted by the only friend he had. 

Derek, heir of Midas - cursed from birth to kill those he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for continuing to read this - I know I'm not always on time, but it means heaps to me when you comment/kudo.


	16. The Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Looks like you’re not the only one with magic hands now?”
> 
> Derek was staring at him, jaw slack. Then his face closed off and his lips pressed into a hard line. 
> 
> “Mine aren’t - it’s not magic. It’s a curse.”
> 
> “It’s -magic-ish. Curses are magic. Magic hands, come on, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TECHNICALLY i am late by like two minutes but that was mostly my betas' fault because they forgot to read this before the day of. 
> 
> They are REUNITED at last. And there are FEELINGS and more FEELINGS but the angst will at least calm down a bit now, AS PROMISED. Warnings at the end.

It had only a week, but Stiles knew he was ready. Really, he had been ready two days ago, but Deaton had insisted he get the spell perfectly over a dozen times before he was allowed to use it for real. The older mage had begrudgingly admitted that Stiles learned more quickly than anticipated, and possessed much more talent than his mother. Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about that knowledge.. But so far he was able to do a handful of tricks using fire and water, make things disappear, make things levitate - and the most important of all - cast a protection spell. 

 

Freaking Daehler was in his chair when he got up to the east hallway, and he glared at Stiles like STILES wasn’t supposed to be there. At his job. 

“Stilinski. Didn’t think you’d ever show.”

“What? Why not?”

“That’s what the queen said. Said you might not come back. That’s what she told the prince too.”

“Shut the hell up, Daehler. How do you know what she told De - the prince?”

Daehler just gave Stiles his signature skeevy grin. Stiles rolled his eyes, marched past the table and rapped on Derek’s door. 

Daehler watched him with eyebrows raised. Stiles ignored him, frowning at the lack of response. He knocked again, a quick _tap-tap-tap_ like always. 

“What are you doing?” Daehler asked. 

“Performing a sacred ritual dance that allows people to enter other people’s rooms.”

“He never answers,” Daehler said, ignoring the snark. 

“Yes, he does,” Stiles said, but he didn’t feel as sure as he sounded. 

“I’ve been here all week, covering for your ass, and the only time he’s come to the door is when the queen came by the first time. She’s been back since, but he didn’t answer her.”

“What are you even doing here? I’m back. This is my job. So vacate. Be gone. Vanish.” 

Stiles waved his hands at Daehler, who scoffed, but did actually get up and leave. Stiles glared at him the whole time, and then turned dejectedly back to the door. 

_Tap-tap-tap._

With still no response, Stiles leaned his forehead on the door. 

“Derek. Come on, man.” 

Silence.

“I - I’m sorry I was gone for so long. Your mom gave me a few days off, but I’m back now. I have - I can - I wanted to show you something.”

Silence. 

Stiles sighed and turned, sliding down the door to sit on the floor, leaning his back against the smooth wood. He felt his lips turn into a half-hearted grin, remembering the last time that he had sat like this, back against the door, talking with Derek. Derek hadn’t answered right at first that time, either. 

“I hope you’re okay,” he said in a small voice. “Can I - will you open the door?”

There was more silence, which Stiles took as a ‘no.’

“It’s funny, I - learned all this stuff. About my mom, and me, and what I can do - I freaked Scott out by lighting my hand on fire. I can light fire, Derek. With my _mind_. I mean, I knew other people could do it, but I never thought I would be able to. I feel a lot calmer? Somehow? I feel like the magic was just pushing at me all the time, I guess, and now that I’m paying attention, it’s not so rowdy. At least that’s what Deaton told me. He has also told me three different ages every time I ask him how old he is. Do you know how old he actually is? You might. You know him better than I do. He told me about the charm thing he does for your birthday every year. He thinks I can learn how to do it, actually, which would be cool - then you could actually touch the weaving I made for you -”

Stiles fell backwards as the door suddenly swung open, and blinked up at Derek, standing there, one hand on the door and one clenched at his side, eyes hard. 

“What do you want.”

Stiles scrambled up to his feet, straightening his shirt and shaking out his hands, suddenly nervous. 

“I - well, I haven’t seen you in like. A week. And I learned how to -”

“I don’t want to see you, Stiles.”

That stopped Stiles right in his tracks. Derek wasn’t making eye contact, and his fist kept clenching and unclenching, the glove making a sound every time he moved. 

“What? Why not? What’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“This - this is my job.” Derek’s jaw clenches. “And I _want_ to be here.”

“Why?” Derek asked, eyes coming up to meet Stiles, a darkness in them that Stiles hadn’t seen in months. “Why the hell would you come back, after you found out what - that I -”

“Are you - is this about the curse?”

Derek scoffed, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. “Of course it is, my whole fucking life is about this damn curse.”

“I don’t care about the curse. That’s not - that doesn’t like, change how I think about you. It actually makes a lot of things clearer, like the gloves, and the no-touching, and the isolation and -”

“Why are you here? Why are you even talking to me? I didn’t think you’d - you shouldn’t have come back. I know she told you.”

“She who? Told me wh-”

“My mother. She told you that I - ” Derek stopped, seemingly at a loss for words and unexpectedly looking like he was on the brink of tears. 

“Just go away,” he said, starting to close the door. 

Stiles, for all his bad ideas, slammed a hand against the wood and pushed it back open, stepping inside Derek’s room. He knew he shouldn’t, but he also knew Derek wasn’t going to listen to him otherwise.

Derek looked honestly terrified, as if Stiles would attack him. Stiles knew it was actually fear on Stiles part - for every step into the room Stiles took, Derek took one back, until he was leaning against his bed frame. Stiles stopped in the middle of the room and crossed his arms. 

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing? Get the fuck out!” Derek said, trying to sound angry.

“No. Listen, I know you’re the prince and whatever, and I’m just a guard, but we are FRIENDS now, and you have to actually listen to me.”

Derek glared at the floor, still straining to get further from Stiles, even though they weren’t close enough to touch. 

“Yeah, she told me about the curse. It makes sense. And I know that YOU think you’re the worst thing ever, I couldn’t figure out WHY before, but - anyway, I don’t think that. I still want to - uh. Be friends with you. I like talking to you. And I wanted to show you what I learned from Deaton. Your mom also told me that I was a spark, which turns out is really freaking cool. Look!”

Stiles lit his thumb on fire, and Derek flinched. Stiles put it out.

“Sorry, sorry, I should have warned you. I just think it’s awesome and it’s still pretty new and - well. Looks like you’re not the only one with magic hands now?”

Derek was staring at him, jaw slack. Then his face closed off and his lips pressed into a hard line. 

“Mine aren’t - it’s not magic. It’s a curse.”

“It’s -magic-ish. Curses are magic. Magic hands, come on, man.”

“It’s not magic, Stiles! It’s a curse and - I - you need to leave!”

“Why?” Stiles yelled back, angry at Derek’s insistence.

“Before I hurt you!”

“You’re not going to hurt me, you idiot! You’re not even close to touching me!”

“I will eventually! That’s what I do, that’s what these fucking hands do! I hurt people. I KILL people! I killed your mother!”

Stiles breath was punched out of him, and he took a step backwards. Derek looked slightly relieved and terribly sad. 

“The first thing I ever did in this world is kill someone. Not just someone - my mom’s best friend, and your - your mom. Her death is my fault, just like my - my... I don’t know why you came back but you - you don’t have to pretend not to hate me. You have every right to. I can get the queen to reassign you to something else, you’ll never have to see me again, you shouldn’t - you shouldn't have come back, Stiles, I’m sorry you - “

And then Derek went immediately, painfully still. Stiles had started moving closer to him as he spoke, and now, as Stiles reached out to touch him, Derek froze. Something inside Stiles’ chest ached, and looking at Derek now, he realized he was in far deeper than he had intended. Derek had no idea what he meant to Stiles. He had no idea what he meant to anyone. 

Stiles shuffled closer still, hand still in the air, hovering over Derek’s shoulder.

“Derek, I - I don’t hate you. I can’t hate you. And nothing that has happened to you is your fault. You were a baby, literally less than a minute old - and yeah, I was upset when I found out. That’s just because I miss her, ya know? But I don’t - gods, I don’t BLAME you. You jackass. I could never - you didn’t - look.” He stopped moving, hand out. Derek was barely breathing. “I know this scares the shit out of you, but can I touch you? Please? You won’t turn me, I KNOW you won’t, because I talked to Deaton about the curse. It’s just your hands. You know that too, I think. So can I please? Just?”

Derek didn’t move for a long time, and Stiles was starting to worry that he had gone too far, but then Derek dipped his head in the slightest of nods, and Stiles exhaled loudly. 

“Okay. Okay. Don’t - freak out, okay? You won’t hurt me.You have your gloves on, even. It’ll be fine.”

And then Stiles gently cupped his hand around Derek’s shoulder. 

Derek shivered at the contact and inhaled sharply through this nose. Then his eyes came up to meet Stiles’ and there was water pooling in them. Stiles grinned back at him, and Derek just - collapsed. 

Stiles followed him to the floor, and held on to his shoulder as Derek sobbed, covering his face with his hands. He leaned towards Stiles, probably unconsciously, as Stiles knelt in front of him, bringing his other hand up to Derek’s other shoulder. He gripped tighter, holding on to Derek as he shook, chest heaving, tears splashing on the stone floor.

It wasn’t long before his breathing evened out, and he coughed a few times, embarrassed to meet Stiles’ eye. 

“Hey, look at me.” Derek did as he was told, and Stiles lifted a hand up, intending to touch Derek’s face. He hesitated, though, not wanting to overstep, until Derek nodded again, closing his eyes. Stiles cupped his cheek, ran his thumbs over Derek’s cheekbones catching the tears that were still slowly leaking out. He scratched at Derek’s scruff and traced his eyebrows, earning a wet chuckle, and then pushed his fingers through Derek’s hair behind his ears. Derek relaxed even more, and sighed out at Stiles carded his hands through Derek’s hair, rubbed down his neck and over his shoulders again. He didn’t want to stop, but when Stiles traced over his collarbones, Derek flinched away from the touch and Stiles pulled his hands away. 

“What? Sorry, I didn’t mean to - “

“No,” Derek started, voice rough. “It’s fine, you didn’t - it’s just a lot, okay?”

His eyes still closed, Derek leaned back against the edge of his bed, looking more relaxed than Stiles had ever seen him. Stiles leaned back on his knees, scooting until he was seated on the floor opposite of Derek, their feet still within touching distance. 

It had to be almost overwhelming after so long of nothing - Stiles hated that something as simple as that had been such a shock to Derek. To go so long without anyone, without allowing anyone to - he couldn’t imagine. And the fact that Derek had LET Stiles, of all people? He didn’t really know what to do with that information. 

Eventually Derek opened his eyes, and found Stiles across from him. It looked like he was trying to keep a smile off his face. Stiles politely didn’t point it out. He didn’t want to break the moment they had just shared. Stiles decided to not bring up the spell that negated the curse - Derek was already unsteady enough, and that - that was a big step. He’d wait. He could wait. 

“So, obviously I can light myself on fire. Pretty cool,” he started, softly, watching Derek to gauge his reaction. Derek just folded his hands over into his lap, raising an eyebrow. “But I can also make shit float around and do some pretty sweet magic tricks with cards and make stuff disappear. You - wanna see?”

Derek’s smile finally broke, just a little one, and he rolled his eyes. “Like I could stop you.”

Stiles grin was huge, and he sat back up on his knees, holding his hand out in front of him. One by one, he lit in fingers on fire and put them out. “Ta-daaaa!”

Derek rolled his eyes again, but the smile stayed too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only warning I can think of for this is yelling? and talk of Claudia's death. Any touching that happens happens with consent, but there is a strong emotional response to said touching. 
> 
> Thank you so much for continuing to read this and comment! It means so much to me! Come find me on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com).


	17. The Hallway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sorry, sorry, I know you’re not used to - I don’t know what you’re okay with. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
> 
> Derek glared at the floor. He didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted. Talking was impossible. 
> 
> “I just - I wanted to ask if I could touch you again?” Stiles asked, looking amazingly unsure when Derek looked up in surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TECHNICALLY I'm like half an hour late BUT ONLY if you reside in my time zone. Maybe I'm always late to you, or early! Whatever. 
> 
> There's a lot of things happening in this one, and I was worried about rushing these two along, especially Derek, but also - I don't want them sitting around twiddling their thumbs. I have THINGS that need to happen, okay?

Stiles and Derek sat talking until Boyd showed up. If he was surprised that Stiles had returned, he didn’t show it, though he did pause at the open door, glancing inside before sitting down without a word. Derek looked around his room self-consciously, realizing that it was the first time anyone outside his family had seen it. Even then, it had been a long time since ANYONE had seen it. 

Derek felt lighter when Stiles left that night, and when Stiles said goodbye, he reached out and clasped Derek’s arm for a second, making Derek freeze. Stiles just waggled his eyebrows and grinned, moving away. 

“Hey, Boyd. How’s Erica?” Stiles asked, and Boyd smiled down at his book. 

Derek remembered the blonde that hung around sometimes in the morning, always smelling of freshly baked bread. She was rude, and too loud, but Derek had a soft spot for her because she always brought him raspberry danishes. Boyd, apparently, had a soft spot as well. Erica always flirted outrageously with him, and he took it with silent dignity, hardly ever rising to the bait. The guard looked back up at Stiles with a stony expression.

“You know she’s good, Stiles, you see her every morning.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to see if YOU knew. She told me about that little outing you took her on. Big meadow, open sky? You’re a secret romantic.”

Boyd grunted, but didn’t oppose the statement. 

“You two are so alike. Goodnight!” Stiles said, before waving and ducking around the corner. 

Boyd looked up at Derek for a moment, eyebrows raised, as if he was expecting Derek to say something. 

“Goodnight,” Derek said, awkwardly. 

“Goodnight, your highness,” Boyd replied, and Derek realized it was the first time he’d ever spoken to Derek directly. 

“You don’t - please don’t call me that. Derek is fine.”

Boyd didn’t look surprised, only nodded in response. Derek closed the door behind him and dazedly walked towards the bed, wondering if the day had been a dream. But no, that stupid ball Stiles had been using for his magic tricks was still on the floor where he’d forgotten it. Derek picked it up, carefully, twirling it between his glove-encased fingers. He set in on the nightstand next to his bed, and changed clothes, crawling in between the sheets. 

Stiles’ touch still lingered on his arms - his shoulders, and mostly his face. He could feel the phantom fingers there, tracing along lines no one had touched in over a decade. Staring at the ceiling, it took Derek a long time to fall asleep. 

\------

The next morning, Derek was pacing back and forth across his room, nervous to see Stiles. If Stiles even showed up. Which he would. Maybe.

It was a constant circle in his head, and it had been going since the sun rose. 

He wanted Stiles to touch him again. Which sounded a lot dirtier than he had meant it to, so he was glad of the privacy of his thoughts. Just - on the arm. Or face. It was already addicting. And terrifying. 

The last person to touch him had died. The last TWO people to touch him had died, actually, and he couldn’t even remember what it felt like anymore. He was already forgetting the sensation of Stiles’ fingers on his skin, in his hair - he needed more. How the hell was he supposed to ask Stiles to touch his face again without it being weird? It would be weird. Right?

“Gods, you’re pathetic,” he muttered to himself, and dropped to the floor, starting to do pushups to try and calm himself down and make his head stop whirring. 

_Tap-tap-tap._

Derek paused, mid-rep, and looked up at the door. He was scared all over again. He glared. This was stupid. 

“Derek?”

_Tap-tap-tap._

“You awake, man?”

Derek stood, shifting nervously on his feet. He raked a hand through his hair, grimacing as the rough gloves caught on some of the strands. Then he stalked to the door and opened it in one swoop. 

Stiles whirled around, grinning, and then his face went red at the sight of Derek. Derek looked down, paranoid that he had left his shirt off again, but no - he was definitely wearing one. He supposed he was a little sweaty and he was breathing more heavily than normal, but - 

Stiles cleared his throat. “Uh, hi, good morning, scone?” He asked, holding out a box with the familiar stamp of Erica’s bakery on it. 

“Thanks,” he said, taking the box. Stiles eyes widened and flickered down. Derek pulled the box close to his chest. 

“What?”

“Noth- you just - that’s the first time you’ve actually taken anything from me. Directly. Usually you grunt and make me put it on the table.”

In his head, Derek started freaking out a little bit. He hadn’t even _noticed_ that he had taken the box directly from Stiles. He was usually so careful and paranoid about touching other people, even with the protection of the gloves. Apparently the thoughts were not as concealed on his face as he had thought, because Stiles then leaned forward.

“Hey, don’t freak out. It’s good. That means you trust me, right?”

Stiles was so close now, Derek could just lean a bit to the left and their arms would brush. It was so very, very tempting. 

“You gonna let me in, or are we back to hallway talk and lingering in doorways?”

Derek glared at him, and then stepped aside. Stiles strutted into the room, and Derek left it open behind him. He glanced nervously out into the hallway, hoping no one else would show up. He didn’t need any more stress today, and he was still self-conscious about his room. But closing the door with Stiles inside almost seemed worse than leaving the door open to the hallway. 

“How many people have you ever had in here?” Stiles asked, spinning in a circle and surveying the walls, despite the fact that he had thoroughly questioned Derek about everything yesterday. Derek had been unsure of Stiles’ interest in his belongings, but obliged him by answering a few - not all - of his questions. 

“Three,” Derek answered, and Stiles turned to face him. “Including you.” 

“Only three? Wait, let me guess - your mom. And Deaton? Really, that’s it?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Stiles, but I’m not exactly comfortable being near other people.”

“Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean - I’ll - I don’t have - you don’t have to let me in here, we can talk in the hallway, like, I’m totally fine with that, I was just giving you shit -”

“No, I - it’s fine.”

“You don’t have to make exceptions for me, I’ll just -”

“I’m not.” Derek totally was. 

“You totally are.”

“You - I - I thought - never mind. Thanks for the scones, you can go.”

Stiles took a step towards him and Derek automatically moved backwards. Stiles stepped backwards again, holding out his hands in what he probably meant as a reassuring gesture. Derek flinched. 

“Sorry, sorry, I know you’re not used to - I don’t know what you’re okay with. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Derek glared at the floor. He didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted. Talking was impossible. 

“I just - I wanted to ask if I could touch you again?” Stiles asked, looking amazingly unsure when Derek looked up in surprise. 

“I know yesterday was overwhelming but it seemed like it was really good for you, and I was up late thinking about how you’re probably never had someone play with your hair and THAT is an absolute travesty - I’m pretty sure I annoyed my dad with my pacing all over the house - and so I was wondering if I could show you? That sounds - beyond super weird, like, I don’t know how to deal with this situation, _obviously,_ but it - I - it was just a thought.”

Derek really couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just nodded a little bit. Stiles face broke into a grin. 

“Oh, man, you don’t know what you’re in for.”

He made Derek sit on the floor, arranging himself behind, which made Derek nervous. He kept trying to turn around to look at Stiles until Stiles smacked him on the back of the head. He was so shocked, he stopped moving, which is what Stiles had been telling him to do. Moments later, though, he wasn’t sure he could move if he tried. 

Stiles hands had immediately sunk into the hair on the back of his head, just above his neck. Derek’s shoulder relaxed without him realizing. Then Stiles trailed his fingers up, scratching slightly at Derek’s scalp, and he wanted to start purring. Nothing had ever felt this good in his entire life. He didn’t want Stiles to ever stop. 

It lasted a few more minutes until Stiles started moving to the hair behind Derek’s ears, and when Stiles’ fingers accidentally brushed his earlobe, Derek shivered and his eyes snapped open. There was a sudden heat in his belly, a shiver up his spine, and his - his, uh…. he was getting excited. He jerked away from Stiles touch and twisted around to look at him, bringing a hand up to touch where Stiles had just been touching. 

“Too much?” Stiles asked, grinning and wiggling his fingers in the air. 

Derek nodded silently. 

“Okay. We’ll start building your touching tolerance.”

THAT sent another shiver up Derek’s spine, and he coughed. 

Stiles then scooted back against the bookshelf like he had the previous night and pulled a weaving out of his bag. Derek settled on the floor in front of the bed and pulled the book he had been re-reading off his bedside table. It was odd how comfortable it was to sit in companionable silence, or relative silence, as Stiles never shut up for long. Eventually Derek had to put the book down to tell Stiles what it was about and how many times he’d read it and - 

 

“What do you do all the time anyway? You can’t just read. You’ve only got like, 12 books.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Those are just the ones that Deaton enchanted. There are more under my bed.”

“Okay, but eventually those run out.”

“I - do things.”

“Like what?” Stiles gave him a disbelieving look. “Brood and angst all by yourself in your tower?”

Derek glared at him. Stiles stuck his tongue out. 

“I read. And sometimes I write. Or draw. I work out a lot.”

“Never would have guessed,” Stiles mumbled. 

“I wish I could run, though.”

Stiles looked up at that, and Derek swallowed, feeling suddenly vulnerable. 

“I - this room. Isn’t big enough to really move around in. And I - I remember running. Outside in the grass. I miss it.”

“You can run in the hallway out there. No one comes up here but me and Boyd. And your mom.”

Derek rubbed a hand down his face. “No, it’s - I don’t want to. It’s not s-”

“Not safe? To run around a wing of the castle that’s practically barren when there is no possible way you’ll be touching anyone, especially when you wear those gloves like your hands are attached to them?”

Derek glared some more. When Stiles put it like that, it sounded ridiculous. 

“Come on,” Stiles said, standing up. He looked like he wanted to hold out a hand to help Derek up, but he knew Derek wouldn’t take it. He was right. Derek stood on his own. 

“What.”

“We’re going running. I’m gonna wipe the floor with your ass because, unlike you, I have been out in the world and therefore have far more stamina than you do.”

“I don’t want to,” Derek said, crossing his arms. 

“You literally just told me you wanted to.”

“Stiles,” he growled.

“Look. If you hate it, I’ll drop it and we’ll never speak of it again. But it’s not good for you to be locked up in here. So let’s run.”

He walked out the door, and Derek could see him setting his bag and weaving down on the table. Derek walked to the door but didn’t exit the room, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms. 

“Coming?” Stiles asked, before grinning and taking off down the hall, turning right around the corner. Derek stared after him, his feet twitching, gut churning. 

“It’s just a hallway,” he said to himself, staring down the corridor where Stiles had disappeared. “Why are you scared of a hallway?”

Derek hadn’t left the confines of his room - or at least the three foot radius of his doorway - since he was six. Stiles came around the corner to Derek’s left, and Derek turned to find Stiles grinning at him, still running. 

“Come on, kid, I’m already one lap ahead of you!” He called, passing Derek and turning the corner again. 

“Don’t call me kid!” Stiles may be older, but not by much. Derek was no kid. He knew Stiles had said it just to piss him off. 

Derek stared down the hallway again, his gut still rolling, but - it was just a hallway. Stiles had made it around unscathed, and had looked hardly winded. It was a short run. Just a little one. He stared and stared until Stiles ran past him again, laughing, and then turned at the last second to blow Derek a backwards kiss before taking the corner again. 

That was it. Derek took a step. And another. His legs felt like jelly, but he was moving them. He was already halfway down the corridor, and when he looked over his shoulder, his room looked very, very small. He turned back and started running. 

It felt like flying.

His limbs were uncoordinated and felt too long, the stones were rough and uneven under his feet, the sunlight streaming through the windows blindingly bright - but he was running. His memories jumped back to chasing Cora down the hallway, laughing maniacally, being hoisted up by his father and swung upside down, loving every second.

He passed the corner, and turned. He had never been on this side before. It was just a stone hallway, a red tapestry hung on the wall. He wanted to stop and look at it, but his legs begged distance, and so on he ran. 

When he turned the corner again to the side with his door and the window for food, he saw Stiles peeking inside, a frown on his face. He must have assumed Derek went back inside instead. 

“Whatcha doin?” He asked, nonchalant, as he ran past the door. Stiles turned, his mouth open in shock. 

“Derek! You’re - you actually -”

“Now who’s winning?” Derek asked, before turning the corner again. 

“Still me!” He could hear Stiles call behind him. “I have two laps on you!”

“One and a half!” Derek said, and he heard Stiles laugh, catching up. Stiles passed him again, easily - he had been right about stamina - and after only the second time around, Derek had to stop. He dropped to the floor just inside his room, breathing hard. 

Stiles dropped next to him, grinning like a loon. He patted Derek on the leg, but Derek moved away from the touch. 

“Sorry,” he said, backing up.

“Don’t - it’s okay.”

“Like I said. We’ll build up your tolerance.”

Derek couldn’t help the smile on his face. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

After that incredible first day, running became a normal thing. So did the touching. Stiles made sure to make skin-to-skin contact every once in a while, making sure Derek was comfortable, and soon, Derek didn’t have to tell Stiles to stop. He wanted Stiles to keep touching him, running hands through his hair, leaning into this shoulder. It was addicting and increasingly so. So was venturing out of his room. There was one day where Derek sat in the corridor with Stiles for the entire day, regardless of the fact that his room would have been more comfortable. It felt dangerous and exciting and Derek wanted more. 

About a week into Derek’s exploring new territory, Stiles brought up something perhaps even more terrifying. 

“Would you - mind? If I brought Scott over? Maybe Isaac? Boyd and Erica could come by? They’re always asking me about you and I feel bad with me being your only friend - I’m sure you get sick of my blabbering away and they’re really cool, I promise you’ll like them. Is that something you’d maybe wanna - try out?”

Derek had been staring at the floor for Stiles’ whole spiel, trying not to let his nervousness show. He _wanted_ to meet the people, and perhaps befriend the people, that Stiles was always talking about, but the idea of having anyone else disturb the bubble of peace he had built around Stiles - 

It was daunting. 

“Maybe we should hold off on Erica and Lydia. They’re - uh, blunt? And would probably just - yeah. Maybe just Scott?” Derek looked up, and Stiles looked so damn hopeful, all he could do was nod once in assent. 

“Sweet! Awesome. And if you don’t like him, you don’t have to pretend to, but I don’t know how anyone couldn’t like Scott, he’s a big puppy - he’ll be great. I’ll bring him with me sometime. Or tomorrow. Just for a little while. You’ll like him. I think.”

Derek stifled a grin at Stiles’ ramblings, which then turned into the story of how he and Scott had first met - which Derek had already heard. But he liked when Stiles talked, so he just leaned back and listened, watching Stiles’ hands move through the air and his mouth quirk with a smile as he remembered the story in retelling it. He was fascinating to watch. Derek had never felt so drawn to another person before - not like he had many to choose from - but Stiles made him feel like - like - 

Like how the sun felt on his face when he leaned out his window. Warm. Free. 

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

Derek snapped his attention back to Stiles, who was watching him with an easy smile on his face. 

“What were you thinking about?”

 _Definitely not you,_ Derek thought, before he said, “Nothing,” glaring at Stiles. 

“Suuuuuuure,” Stiles said. “Sure looked like nothing.”

“Scott was missing his shoe?” Derek prompted, and just like that, the moment was forgotten. 

Derek would eventually have to deal with these feelings he was having. If that’s what they were at all. Maybe he was just tired from all the running. That was probably what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAIR PLAYING! Am I RIGHT??? RIIIIIGHT????
> 
> Erica, Scott, etc, will make an appearance in the next chapter, as hinted at. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading/kudoing/commenting - I know it's a long journey but I hope you're enjoying the ride. 
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com)


	18. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What - are there rules?” Derek asked, and it was the most unsure thing Scott had heard him say. 
> 
> “Basically, don’t let Scott get the ball past you. You’re on my team, and the hallway is gonna be our field. If we get the ball over past the tapestry behind him, we get a point. If Scott gets the ball over here to the end of the hallway, HE gets a point. Bad. Scott should get no points.”
> 
> Scott rolled his eyes, but not before he caught Derek giving Stiles an amused almost-grin. Which was interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO I AM BACK  
> My life is a little crazy and I'm having some trouble motivating myself so I apologize for the lateness of this posting - and for how short of a chapter it is. But there will be more! I promise!
> 
> And yes, I did research the rules of lacrosse for this and then basically decided to just have there be no rules because rules are for squares. This chapter is from Scott's perspective, and there will be more secondary characters coming up! As well as MAGIC and FEELINGS. Mwah haha. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Scott didn’t know what to think of the prince. He kind of came off like an asshole, but Stiles claimed that was just because he wasn’t used to communicating with actual people. Scott wasn’t too sure about that, though, because STILES was kind of an asshole. At times. And made friends with assholes. So it stood to reason that Derek may be one too. 

At least he had okayed Scott coming by and hanging out with Stiles - after the first disastrous meeting when he and Isaac had shown up, Scott had pretty much avoided the east wing entirely, despite Stiles’ complaints that he never saw Scott anymore. 

However, Derek had agreed to today, though currently, Derek was standing in his doorway, arms crossed, glaring at Stiles. Which seemed to be his thing. Stiles was trying to explain his plan to the prince. Who kept glaring. 

“It’s a game. We made it up as kids. You’ll like it. There’s running involved.”

Scott didn’t know why that would convince Derek, but the scowl seemed less pronounced. 

“There are these sticks with the nets on the end, see? I wove them, and then there’s the ball, and basically the goal is to get the ball from the sticks to the - well, the goal. You get the ball into the goal, and you score points. It’s simple.”

Scott handed over one of the Cross sticks - Stiles had named the game Cross when they had crossed their sticks the very first time they’d played - to Derek, who regarded it with poorly concealed interest. Scott grinned encouragingly. 

“You’ll do great, man. It’s easy. And fun.”

“Yeah, Scotty and I play it all the time,” Stiles said, lightly clasping Derek on the shoulder, who looked startled for a second. That surprised Scott, because Stiles had laid down three rules for hanging out with Derek, and number one was no touching. 

_“He’s weird about it, Scotty, just don’t. No touch. And don’t ask about the gloves. At all. No touch, no gloves, and no why-do-you-stay-locked-in-your-room-all-the-time. Okay? Yes? Good. This’ll be fun.”_

Scott was still hesitant to assign the word _fun_ to Derek, but then again, they hadn’t started playing yet. 

“What - are there rules?” Derek asked, and it was the most unsure thing Scott had heard him say. 

“Basically, don’t let Scott get the ball past you. You’re on my team, and the hallway is gonna be our field. If we get the ball over past the tapestry behind him, we get a point. If Scott gets the ball over here to the end of the hallway, HE gets a point. Bad. Scott should get no points.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but not before he caught Derek giving Stiles an amused almost-grin. Which was interesting. 

Scott sauntered over to the other end of the hall, feeling sure of himself. Derek was gonna get his ass kicked. Stiles may be just as good - better, even, than Scott at Cross (but only because Stiles had INVENTED the game), but he would be distracted helping Derek, who would probably be useless (seriously, the guy never goes outside, how good could he be at sports?) and therefore - Scott would win. He was looking forward to it. 

“Ready?” Stiles asked, and Derek nodded at him, and the ball hit the floor. 

Scott got a point within 45 seconds. 

“Okay, fine, one point. You won’t get another,” Stiles muttered, and grinned at Derek, who shrugged and tapped his stick on the ground. 

Scott got 11 more points, and by then, the three of them were breathing hard and sweating through their shirts. Derek kept tugging at his gloves, which made Scott want to ask about them all the more. Stiles gave him a warning look so he refrained. 

“Okay, okay, we can totally turn this around. Let’s go again.” 

“Stiles,” Scott said. “He’s new to the game, it’s fine. Let’s just toss it around.”

“No, no, I will never admit defeat, I -”

“I could go a few more,” Derek said, voice low. Scott and Stiles both turned towards him, and Derek just raised his eyebrows. 

“THAT is what I am talking about, yes!” Stiles said, holding up a hand to high-five Derek, who reluctantly lifted his gloved hand to allow him. 

“Fine, whatever, you can keep losing,” Scott said, bending his knees in preparation to steal the ball again. This would be easy.

He was wrong.

THIS time, Derek swooped past Stiles and knocked the ball between Scott’s feet, faking left while going right, instantly scoring a goal. Stiles literally dropped his stick in amazement, mouth gaping, and Scott had a similar expression when he turned to Derek. Derek stood at the end of the hall, ball securely in his net, an expectant expression on his face. 

“Did you want to go again?” He asked. 

Scott’s jaw clicked shut as Stiles started laughing maniacally. “Fine,” Scott says, narrowing his eyes. “Bring it on.” 

Derek full on grinned at him, tossing the ball to Stiles. 

\-----

By the next hour, they’re tied, 24 to 24, and all three are lying on the cool stone floor, exhausted, having given up. Derek had spent the first half of the game pretending to be useless while really cataloging all of Scott’s weaknesses. Derek and Stiles had caught up to Scott’s score with ease after Derek started actually playing.

“You know, it really wasn’t fair at all,” Scott said, staring up at the ceiling. 

“What?” Stiles asked. Derek remained silent. 

“Two against one. And DON’T try to pull that he’s-never-played-before crap. He’s obviously crafty. And I know he works out.”

“Crafty?” Stiles asked with a laugh.

“How do you know I work out?” Derek asked, sitting up.

Scott looked over at him. “First of all, your arms are huge, dude. And Stiles talks about you all the time.” 

“Scott! What? I do not,” Stiles said quickly, sitting up as well. “I definitely do not.” 

Scott huffs, and doesn’t have to look to see if Stiles face is red. 

“You talk about me?” Derek asked then, quietly, turning towards Stiles. 

“Well. Yeah, I guess. Sure. You’re my - you’re my friend.” 

Scott suddenly felt like he was intruding on a moment, so he stood, claiming he had to use the washroom. Looking back over his shoulder, Stiles had put his hand on Derek’s arm, and Derek was leaning into the touch, the barest hint of a smile on his face. Stiles was talking again, of course, and Derek looked like he was actually listening. 

Which, again, was interesting. Very interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott ships it. Yes he do. 
> 
> As always, come find me on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com) and please leave a comment! I love to hear what you have to say!


	19. The Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles tells me you have quite the collection of books, your majesty.”
> 
> Derek glared at Lydia, who twitched her eyebrow upwards. “Derek,” she corrected, and he relaxed. Getting Stiles’ friends to call him by his actual name was even harder than convincing Stiles, but that was mostly because there were a lot more of them. 
> 
> “I do,” he said quietly. “Though I’m sure you’ll find my collection lacking compared to the royal library.”
> 
> “I would still love to see what you have,” Lydia answered, looking at him expectantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO I AM HERE. and still late (oops). I would have posted this like 4 days ago? But it was Halloweekend so you understand. Thank you to my betas, alex and liz. 
> 
> Have some Stiles AND Derek pov.

Danny was in his seat. DANNY was in his seat. 

Stiles had passed Boyd on the way in, and Boyd had looked at his with one eyebrow raised, which Stiles thought was odd - and now -

“Stiles, what are you doing here?”

Danny Mahealani was one of the Queen’s personal guards, one of maybe a dozen that rotated shifts and positions in the castle. He was a really nice guy, and Stiles had had kind of thing for him when they were younger, but now he was looking at Stiles in confusion and asking him why he was here and was _in his seat._

“What? What are YOU doing here? This is my job,” Stiles said, gesturing to the chair. Stiles’ chair.

Derek’s door was closed as well, and these days, it was open more often than not when Stiles got there in the mornings. 

“Queen Talia told me that I was stationed here today. I was wondering what had happened to you.”

“Uh.” Stiles bit his thumbnail. “Did she say why?”

“Uh. No, sorry.”

Danny watched him as he shifted from one foot to the other, and then moved towards Derek’s door. 

“Uh, Stiles? I don’t think you should -”

“Listen, Mahealani, this is MY post, and MY job you are currently occupying, and the man behind that door is my friend, so sit down in MY chair and shut up.”

Danny just pursed his lips and leaned back, watching. 

It took a minute for Stiles to knock, because - well - he didn’t KNOW why Danny was there. In his chair. What if - what if Derek had asked for someone else? What if the queen didn’t think he was qualified anymore? He was running through all of the interactions he had had with Derek for the last week, and couldn’t think of a single thing that would have made him do this - but what if? What if Stiles had missed something?   
Stiles could feel his heartbeat pick up and took a deep breath before he freaked himself out. He and Derek were FRIENDS. He would ask what was up, and maybe Derek would be mad or whatever, but it would be fine. Totally. 

_Tap-tap-tap._

He stepped back and waited. 

What he was NOT expecting was a sleep-mussed, bleary-eyed, SHIRTLESS _why is he always SHIRTLESS_ Derek to swing open the door, looking beyond adorable and confused. 

Danny started coughing behind him, but Stiles paid him no mind, trying desperately to NOT be tempted by the expanse of smooth skin covering bulging muscles all over the place - 

“Stiles? What are you - what?”

“Do you not want me to be here anymore?” Stiles blurted out, which was not the concise and mature conversation he was hoping to start. 

“What?” Derek asked, running a gloved - always gloved - hand over his messy hair. It looked so SOFT - 

“Because Danny is in my chair and I don’t know why and he said he was stationed here today and I’m sorry if I did something to upset you, but I really like this - uh, job - and I would like to fix whatever it was and keep doing it because I don’t want to -”

“Stiles, stop.” Derek said, holding out a hand. Stiles stopped, biting his lip. 

“Did my mother not tell you about the new schedule?”

“Um. No?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but there was a shadow of a smile on his face, and Stiles could already feel himself relaxing. 

“I, uh, I remember you saying that your dad. Um. Goes to the market every Thursday, and you used to go with him, and you never ever get a day off, so I thought. I asked. If you could have a day off.” Derek looked down, and his ears were definitely turning red. It was adorable. And then what he had just said clicked and Stiles’ mouth dropped open. 

“You - you’re giving me Thursdays off? So I can spend them with. My dad. Who also has Thursdays off. Which somehow you must have known because you - you’re the best,” Stiles said, a grin overtaking his face. Derek glanced up through his eyelashes and it made Stiles a little breathless. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay. I really like you - having this job too. But you should have time with your dad. And Scott, and your other friends. Without having to worry about me.”

“Oh please. They are all DYING to meet you,” Stiles said, but then Derek crossed his arms over his chest, so he asked, “is that still okay?”

Derek nodded. Stiles squinted at him. 

“Are you sure? Because you’re not giving off positive vibes right now.”

“Yes, Stiles, it’s fine,” Derek said, rolling his eyes again. Stiles smiled at him and Derek glared - or sort of glared; it was harder for him to pull off these days.

“Can - can I hug you?” Stiles asked, and Derek dropped his arms in surprise. There was more coughing behind him, but it was, again, ignored. 

“Uh. Okay,” Derek said, eyes huge and scared. 

Stiles moved in slowly, giving Derek plenty of time to change his mind, but he didn’t move back, so Stiles wrapped his arms around the prince and tried not to notice how smooth and warm his skin was. Derek didn’t hug back, but Stiles hadn’t expected him to. When he pulled away, Derek was almost smiling, looking down at the floor. 

“Then, uh, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Because I’m off today,” Stiles said with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Bye, Stiles,” Derek said, still not looking at him, and softly shut the door. 

“Stilinski! Are you banging the PRINCE?!” Danny asked in a furious whisper. 

“Oh my god, Mahealani, shut up, that door is NOT soundproofed!” Stiles whispered back, taking off down the hallway. He had a market to get to. 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Derek was - quite possibly - happy. It was unsettling. And overwhelming. 

Stiles had started to bring his friends around more often - first, just Scott, then Erica, and Lydia, and Allison showed up with Scott a few times, uh - the girl with the wild hair and the one with the pretty smile...the kid that followed Scott around like a puppy...it was really hard to keep all of their names straight. Derek hadn’t had to remember that many people in his entire life. Oh, and Jackson. He remembered Jackson because he was the only one of Stiles’ friends Derek didn’t like.

“Oh, I don’t like him either,” Stiles said when Derek admitted his feelings towards Jackson. “He’s an ass.”

“Then why is he your friend?” Derek asked, leaning up against his bedframe while Stiles packed away his things from the day. They had spent the afternoon running with Scott, and then played cards when Lydia, Jackson and Allison showed up. Boyd would be here any minute to relieve Stiles. 

“I don’t know, we all grew up together - he’s always been part of the group, you know? And plus, he and Lydia have this on-again off-again thing, so when she likes him, he gets invited whether I want him there or not.”

“Who would date Jackson? On purpose?” Derek muttered, mostly to himself, but Stiles still laughed. 

Today it was Lydia, Stiles and Scott - Allison had been by earlier, but had to leave for her shift at her father’s shop. The Argents were the best tailors, cobblers and haberdashers in the kingdom, and were the official clothing supplier to the court. Derek had a pair of hunting boots with the Argent name sewn into it. Not that he ever wore them. 

“Stiles tells me you have quite the collection of books, your majesty.”

Derek glared at Lydia, who twitched her eyebrow upwards. “Derek,” she corrected, and he relaxed. Getting Stiles’ friends to call him by his actual name was even harder than convincing Stiles, but that was mostly because there were a lot more of them. 

“I do,” he said quietly. “Though I’m sure you’ll find my collection lacking compared to the royal library.”

“I would still love to see what you have,” Lydia answered, looking at him expectantly. 

Derek was silent for a moment, and apparently a moment too long, because Stiles jumped into the conversation. 

“You don’t have to, Derek, if you don’t wa-”

“It’s fine.” Derek stood, gesturing that Lydia should do the same, and walked through the open doorway into his room. The door had remained open while Stiles had visitors the last several times - he liked the idea of being able to quickly escape, and - and Stiles had suggested he get more comfortable with the idea of people being around him and his space. Derek had inferred that leaving the door open was symbolic to his choice of trying to be open and try new things - meaning people. 

Lydia waited at the doorway, watching Derek, and Derek could see a curious Stiles and Scott watching them from the corridor floor where the four of them had been sitting. After only a short hesitation, he cleared his throat and said, “You can come in.” Lydia delicately stepped over the threshold and into the room. 

Belatedly, Derek realized that this was the second person in as many months that had been in his room since he was a boy, and it wasn’t as terrifying as he had always thought. Lydia glanced around briefly before her gaze settled on the small bookshelf he had, only two shelves tall, holding about two dozen books. She immediately crouched down to look, head tilted to read the titles. 

Lydia was smart, just as smart as Stiles, and far more highbrow and studious in her pursuit of knowledge. She had, according to Stiles, read every single book in the library twice, while Stiles himself had only read over it once. She was pursuing scientific study and medicine, working closely with the castle physician, Melissa McCall. Scott and Lydia often talked about his mother, for whom all of Stiles friends shared great respect. 

Derek respected Lydia, and wanted to impress her, therefore impressing Stiles. He shifted nervously on his feet as she perused, trying not to stare at her, wondering what she was thinking. 

“Do you have the rest of this series?”

Derek looked up to see Lydia in front of him, holding a book out. It was the second in a series of five fiction novels about a princess spark who dethroned a corrupt king and led the people into freedom. He loved all of them, but the second book was his favorite, which is why it was on the shelf rather than in the trunk under his bed. 

“Yes,” he replied, and turned, lifting the covers to pull the trunk out by its handle. Lydia’s eyes lit up at the sight, and her lips ticked upwards when he opened it up, stepping aside to show her the almost one-hundred books he kept inside. These books weren’t enchanted, and so Derek kept them in the safe - but he had had Deaton enchant his favorites so he could actually touch them and read them. The enchanted ones went on the bookshelf. 

Lydia was already digging in the trunk, rooting around and Derek was surprised that he didn’t mind. 

“Why do you keep this one out here if you have the rest under your bed?” She asked, not looking at him.

“The second one is my favorite.” 

She glances up sharply. “But that’s before Wen confesses she loves Amar. Book three is clearly the best one, both for the romance AND for the conspiracy against the king.”

“Yes, book three is the best one for their relationship - if you like miscommunication and frustration. In book two you can actually see Wen falling in love, which is way better. She realizes everything in book two and it just takes till book three for her to admit it out loud. As for the conspiracy, I think the beginning of three is okay, but gets too convoluted with all the underhanded generals, and it doesn’t get back on track until - halfway into four.”

Lydia’s eyebrow had gone up, and she stood, facing Derek. 

“What about Felix’s betrayal in two? That sours the whole tone of the book. I almost want to skip over it when I re-read them.”

“No, NO, the way Felix’s betrayal was portrayed - it wasn’t good, not for Wen, obviously, but the way it was written is downright heart-wrenching. It’s amazing. Nothing in any of the other books - including when Wen and Amar get together - has that same kind of emotion. Not even when they find out about the door -”

“In book five? Oh, come on, that was the greatest twist!”

“It’s never fully explained!” Derek said, crossing his arms in defense.

“It’s implied,” Lydia said, crossing her arms as well. 

“Oh really? Well then, how do you explain the key? How the hell did Wen get it? Did it just magically appear? No way. Someone had to have planted it, and Fror was locked up, so he couldn’t -”

“You really think Fror was locked up the whole time?”

Derek gaped at her. “How the hell would he have gotten out? Mellen was already gone, Wen didn’t know where he was, and Amar -”

“You’re forgetting Sellen.”

“SELLEN?” Derek yelled, throwing his arms out. “Sellen is the most useless character in the series, besides -”

“Rakkor,” they both said together. Then there was a loud thump in the hallway, and Lydia and Derek turned to see Stiles sprawled out on his stomach, inches from the doorway, Scott on top of him.

“What are you two idiots doing?” Lydia asked, and Derek felt his face burn with embarrassment. He had just gotten into an argument with Lydia about a _fictional character_ while Stiles was within hearing distance. Great. 

“Nothing! Just - um. Scott was -”

“Do NOT blame me for this -”

“- I was just - listening?”

Lydia looked unimpressed. Derek tried to subtly look at Stiles, but Stiles was staring at him, so that didn’t work. He looked away hurriedly. 

“I can’t believe you don’t think Sellen is capable of planting the key. He may be useless most of the time, yes -” Lydia started back in, and Derek felt all turned around, “ -but he DID find the map in the first book! Give him a little credit!”

Derek scoffed without even thinking about it, and started to answer. “FOUND the map is a pretty strong term, since it practically -” he paused, looking over at Stiles again, but he - Stiles was watching him with interest. Almost awe. So Derek pushed on. “It practically, no, _literally_ fell on top of him while he was bumbling around like the idiot he is.”

“But he recognized its significance! And brought it straight to Wen!” 

Derek glared. She was right about that. Lydia smiled triumphantly, and then held the book out to Derek. 

“Thank you for letting me look. I’ll have to re-read this one sometime and try to - better understand your perspective.” 

Derek swallowed, and then pushed the book back into Lydia’s hands. “Go ahead and borrow it. You obviously love it as much as I do. Just bring it back.” Then, of course, his head was spinning with the very real possibility that he had just lent his favorite book to a near-stranger, never to see it again. Once it left his hallway, he didn’t - he couldn’t -

But then Lydia smiled again, pulling the book close to her chest. “I will.” 

Derek believed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Lydia are my brotp, honestly.   
> Also I completely made up the book series can you tell.  
> More soon.


	20. The Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Derek darling, may I come in?” 
> 
> His mother had asked him that question almost weekly for most of his life. It had become a standard greeting between the two of them. Can I come in, No, Okay. Over and over. But this time - this time the queen had something of hope in her eyes and Derek couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it and so he swallowed and slowly nodded, adrenaline spiking as she smiled and stepped into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Again! So soon! I think I'm finally getting some traction on the inspiration for this story - thank you for hanging around so long! And an always thank you to my betas, [liz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wondrousstrangesnow/pseuds/wondrousstrangesnow) and [alex](http://archiveofourown.org/users/apollojolras/pseuds/apollojolras).

Talia’s breath caught in her throat as she rounded the corner to the east wing, so startled that she froze in her tracks. The laughter she had thought she was imagining was quite real, emulating from the circle of people on the floor outside the prince’s room. Stiles Stilinski, along with his friend Sir McCall, Sir Lahey, the cobbler’s daughter, Argent, and Doctor McCall’s protege, Ms. Martin, were all sitting on pillows and blankets that seemed to have come from Derek’s chambers, to which the door was _open,_ by the gods, and - most shocking of all, Derek sat at the head of the circle, shoulders relaxed, knee practically _touching_ Stiles’ knee, and a full smile on his face. His usual stoic features were stretched in an painfully familiar echo of his father’s, and Talia’s chest ached with it. The ache only worsened when Stiles leaned over and said something to Derek, making him laugh. Full, rich, golden tones that Talia thought she would never hear. Eyes misting, Talia considered retreating to not break up whatever wonder was happening before her, but before she could go, Ms. Martin looked up and caught sight of her. 

She stood, exclaiming, “Your majesty!”

The circle of youths quickly scrambled to their feet, all looking embarrassingly at their feet, including Derek. His ears began to turn red, and Talia felt her lips twitch. 

“Your majesty, what a pleasant surprise,” Stiles finally said, breaking the silence.

“Stiles. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No intrusion at all, your majesty,” Sir McCall said, bowing slightly. 

“What can we do for you, your majesty?” Stiles asked. Derek rubbed the back of his neck, glancing up at his mother. 

“I was just here to see how Derek was doing, but if the laughter pouring out of his hall is any indication, he’s having a marvelous day.”

“So sorry, your majesty, sorry, we’ll try to keep it down -”

“Nonsense. That was far from a complaint, Stiles. I’m glad to see Derek has found some friends.”

“Mother,” Derek mumbled, looking down at his feet again. 

Talia’s eyes kept going back and forth between her son and his open door - she hadn’t been inside that room in almost two decades, and had literally never seen the door left so blatantly open. It was a wonder indeed. 

“Carry on,” she said, and turned on her heel, swiftly exiting the hall. Once she had rounded the next corner, she stopped and leaned against the wall, covering her face to hide the tears threatening her eyes. She could hear furious whispering from the group, and had to hold back her laughter at the absurdity - wonderful absurdity - of the situation. She would have to come back later, and hopefully Derek would be open to talking to her about it. 

\--------------------------------------------

Derek had been worried when his mother had interrupted them that morning. He had honestly forgotten completely about her weekly visits, so caught up in the newness of the group - besides, she hadn’t been in the castle last week, so she hadn’t come by like she usually did. 

When he looked up and saw his mother staring at him, eyes wide, the sudden possibility that he would have to go back to silence and loneliness was overwhelming. But she merely nodded, spoke politely, and left as quickly as she had arrived. Her presence was not lost on his new friends, however. 

“Great, I’m gonna get fired,” Stiles moaned, putting his head in his hands. 

“You mean you didn’t clear it with the freaking QUEEN before letting us all up here?” Scott asked, smacking Stiles’ shoulder. 

“Stiles,” Lydia sighed.

“I’M gonna get fired!” Isaac said, grabbing his jacket. 

“Guys, no! That’s - she didn’t look mad. Did she? Derek did she look mad?” Stiles asked, glancing up at him, and Derek didn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t know.”

Lydia crossed her arms at him. “Have you had people up here before us?” She asked.

Derek looked at the ground. 

“No, he hasn’t,” Stiles answered for him, bumping his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. It still surprised Derek how calming Stiles’ - or really, anyone else’s - touch could be. Being without contact for so long made him forget how much he’d liked it.

“So maybe she was just surprised to see us,” Allison pointed out. 

“Or she’s mad and is gonna fire us,” Isaac said, making Scott groan. 

“Don’t be overdramatic. Derek will just ask her about it later,” Lydia said, and Derek glared at the floor. “Right?”

He didn’t say anything. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked, voice soft. Derek looked up at him. Stiles’ honey eyes were wide open and pleading, and Derek - couldn’t say no. 

“Okay, I - I can ask her if it’s okay. I, um. I like it when you’re here.” He mumbled the last part, embarrassed, but Stiles had been encouraging him to be honest and ‘express an emotion other than anger once in awhile, Der, come on.’

Lydia was the one that put a comforting hand on his shoulder, surprisingly, and she smiled at him before turning to leave, the others save Stiles following suit. The hallway seemed really big and empty without them. 

“I’m going to read,” Derek said, and Stiles looked disappointed, but he didn’t want to really talk anymore. He left the door open, though, because then he could watch Stiles work, which was honestly far more entertaining than any book Derek had. 

Derek only noticed when the queen came back around the corner hours later because Stiles noticed her and stood. 

“Your majesty,” Stiles said, and bowed. Talia nodded at him and came to Derek’s door, just like she always did. Derek wanted to leap up and close the door and HIDE from his mother but found himself frozen to the bed. He tried to remember what he and Stiles had talked about before, about letting his family in like he let Stiles in - like - 

_”Derek. You should let your mom in your room.”_

_Derek scowled at the book he was reading, and then glanced over at Stiles, who was sitting in his usual spot on the floor. Stiles had slowly but surely completely integrated himself into Derek’s life and practically had free reign of Derek’s room. He didn’t know how it had happened._

_“Why.”_

_“Because she misses you.”_

_“She sees me every week.”_

_“No she doesn’t. Not like this.”_

_Derek stared at him, guilt seeping in, knowing that Stiles had a point._

_“I can’t just - she - it’s been a really, really long time.”_

_“So isn’t it long overdue?”_

_Derek glared at his book._

_“You don’t have to, but I think it’ll be good for both of you. And maybe Laura and Cora as well, when you’re ready. They love you and want to see you and - I think you miss them too.”_

“Derek darling, may I come in?” 

His mother had asked him that question almost weekly for most of his life. It had become a standard greeting between the two of them. Can I come in, No, Okay. Over and over. But this time - this time the queen had something of hope in her eyes and Derek couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it and so he swallowed and slowly nodded, adrenaline spiking as she smiled and stepped into the room. 

“How are you doing today, baby?” She asked after a cursory glance around.

“Fine,” he said, like he always did. 

“There was quite a crowd up here earlier.”

Derek closed his book and sat up a little. “Uh - yeah. Stiles has been - um, I said he could bring his friends up. Sometimes. I didn’t think you’d mind. It’s my room, after all,” he said. He was an adult. He was allowed to make his own decisions. 

His mother looked surprised. “Honey, why would I mind at all? I’m happy you’re making friends. And - I don’t think I remember the last time I heard you laugh.”

Derek’s eyes shifted over to the open door, and then out to Stiles, who was obviously eavesdropping. Derek didn’t feel like he could talk candidly about - what was going on with Stiles listening so closely. “Can you close the door?”

Talia paused a little, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. She and Laura had identical confused faces. But then she nodded.

“Sure, baby.” She closed the door, and turned back towards him. “What’s the matter?”

Derek cleared his throat, and tried to put into words what he had been thinking about for the past few weeks. He always felt awkward trying to explain himself out loud - he much preferred writing his thoughts down. It was so much easier that way. He wanted his mom to know -

“Stiles has been. Talking to me. About things. he told me I should tell you. Some - and his friends - they don’t know anything about me, and it’s just - easier. It’s easy.” This wasn’t anything like he’d wanted to say it. “I’m sorry.”

“Derek, why are you apologizing? For having friends? For having some well-deserved joy after so long?” His mother stepped closer to him.

“I don’t want you to think - I don’t want you to think I prefer them. Over - over you.” Because that _wasn’t_ true. Derek loved his mother just like he always had - but Stiles had made it easier somehow. 

The queen looked close to tears. “Derek, honey, I don’t - I would never. I’m so happy for you, truly, and I’m so happy that you’re - you’re giving me something too. I haven’t been in this room for years.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling even more guilty about that. He had been so focused on not hurting anyone else that he had completely closed off everyone in his life, including the people that meant the most. 

Derek hadn’t noticed Talia moving towards him, but when he looked up again, she was next to the bed. The proximity was a little scary, but - not as bad as he’d feared. 

“Out of curiosity, what changed?” She asked him.

Derek felt his lips turn upwards of their own accord. Stiles. Stiles had changed everything. 

“Stiles. He actually bothered me into becoming friends with him. And then he - he talked to me. And makes me feel comfortable. It’s so easy to be around him, he comes in here every day, and he’s been -”

Derek’s eyes flickered up to meet his mother’s. 

“ -he’s been practicing. With Deaton. This spell that protects him. From - from me hurting him.”

He paused, scared of what he was about to say. 

“I haven’t tried it yet - I’m too - I don’t want to risk it, but we’ve been - I’ve been getting used to - he’s helping me - what I mean is, mom, I - you can hug me, or - touch me. If you want.” Derek felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room, but he pushed on. This was important. “You always looks like you want to, and you can. It’s okay. Stiles does it all the time now, even Scott sometimes, and I miss - I miss you. And you always used to, um.”

“Derek, honey, I -” she started, but then Derek took a breath and shuffled closer. 

“I - I know I won’t hurt - I still have these on,” he said, wiggling his gloved hands, voice wavering. “I just - if you wanted.” He held his breath until she reached out a hand and touched his arm. 

Her hand was warm and Derek felt suddenly overtaken with longing. He hadn’t felt his mother’s hands since he was a child. Talia must have felt similarly, because tears were now spilling over her cheeks. She ran a hand up his arm, and after a moment, took his face gently in her hands and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead, just like when he was a boy. 

When she pulled away, Derek was crying silent tears as well, and she laughed wetly, wiping them off his face with her fingers, scratching at the scruffiness of his face. He smiled at her, and she laughed again. 

“Derek, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

“I - thanks, mom.” 

\---------------------------------------------

“Tell me about him,” Talia said after a while, the two of them sitting on the edge of Derek’s bed, her arm wrapped around his elbow. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the constant touching, but it was nice enough that he didn’t say anything about it. 

“What?”

“Tell me about _Stiles,_ ” she said, leaning into him slightly. Derek coughed. 

“What about him?”

“Honey, don’t play coy. The boy has clearly completely enamored you. Tell me about your boy.”

Derek could FEEL his face go red. “He’s not my boy,” Derek grumbled. “We’re just friends.”

“You can be friends with someone you like.”

“Mom,” he said, pulling his arm away, but not leaving the bed. 

“Derek, honey, I don’t - I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you to tell me something you don’t want to, but I like when you tell me things. I like to know things about you, and that includes when you have a crush.” 

“Mom, stop, it’s not - I don’t know what it is. I’ve never - I don’t know what this is.”

Talia smiled at him, which just made him more frustrated. “What,” he growled.

“Do you - have feelings for him?”

Derek glared again. “Maybe.”

“Are you worried about them?”

Derek sighed. He didn’t know. He didn’t exactly know how he was feeling, he just knew that no one else had ever made him feel like this. He was scared, and nervous, and didn’t want to say anything to Stiles. 

“I don’t know, mom.”

She reached out tentatively to touch his arm again. “Derek, you don’t really need a definitive answer right now. It’s okay to not know. But I think it’s also important to acknowledge what you’re feeling. And...eventually, tell Stiles.”

Derek’s heart clenched at just the thought. “What if he doesn’t - doesn’t want me to feel that way?”

“For some reason, I don’t think he’ll mind.”

\--------------------------------------------

They talked for a while, Stiles staring curiously after Talia when she left, and she felt better about Derek than she had - well, since he was a little boy. He had expressed some concern, however subtle, that her unannounced arrival that morning had frightened Stiles and his friends away from visiting his room. This, of course, would not do. 

Talia sent out a summons the next day for all the friends Derek had mentioned - Sirs Lahey, McCall and Boyd, the Argent girl, Ms. Martin, Erica the baker - and Stiles. They arrived as a group, shuffling into her wing, all looking rather nervous. 

“Good afternoon,” she started, and a mumbled chorus of “Good afternoon, your majesty” came back to her. Talia almost sighed. She knew she cut an imposing figure, and that power was intimidating, but she had been present at no fewer than 3 of the births of the young adults in front of her, had helped Scott, Stiles, Isaac and Lydia all wash blood off at one point or another, approached Boyd herself about a guard position, and this formality was beginning to annoy her. 

“What can we do for you, your majesty?” Stiles asked, finally, and that was it. 

“Oh, stop it. We are not in formal company - you are close friends with my son, and I was present at your birth, for goodness sake! Same goes for you, McCall,” and Scott had the decency to look admonished, “and I’ve seen the rest of you in the worst sort of messes. I have seen you covered in boils” - pointing at Isaac - “you, with a spear through your leg” - pointing at Boyd - “you, weeping over a stuffed animal,” pointing at Lydia, “and you, dipped head to toe in flour,” ending at Erica. “I may be queen, yes, but inside this room, I want you to treat me merely as an adult, and mother of a friend. Or, I hope he is a friend to all of you.” 

There was silence. Embarrassed silence. “Is he not?” She asked. 

“Yes of course, your m- m’lady.” “Yes, he is our friend.” “Yes ma’am.” Talia smiled. 

“Good. Then I hope that you will remain his friends and continue to visit him on a regular basis. It’s good for him. And I thank you for it.”

“Of course, you - uh, madam.” Stiles bowed, along with his company, and when they stood, Talia dismissed them with another smile. 

“Except - Stiles, will you remain a moment?”

He bowed again, but when his friends shuffled from the room, his face turned nervous. 

“I know I should have asked before just - inviting them all up to the east wing, I just - Derek is so lonely up there, and I thought - and it’s been helping! But I should have gotten your permission, your majesty, I apologize - “

“Stiles. None of that ‘your majesty’ crap. And this isn’t because I’m angry with you. Please sit,” she said, gesturing to a chair across from her. She sat as well, crossing her ankles and looking at Stiles speculatively. 

“I wanted to ask you why,” she said. Stiles looked confused by the statement.

“Why?”

“Why you’ve taken such personal interest and care in Derek. Not that I disapprove, in fact, I’m glad you care for him - but I am mindful of your intentions. He is not a child anymore but - he is fragile, still. I worry for him, and so I worry about you and the entirely new environment he finds himself in because of you.”

“Your m- uh, no, you shouldn’t - don’t be worried. I mean, you’re his mom, of course you can be worried. But there is no worry! No cause! To worry, I mean. He’s - he’s great. I think it’s been - good for him, honestly. I’ve gotten to know him a lot better in the last months and we’re friends now, and I think - I think having more people around is good for him. It took a while and some convincing, but now - I mean, he smiles! Regularly! You probably saw that. And he laughs sometimes. It’s not very often but on certain days I can just catch him. And he gets in arguments with Lydia about books and with Scott about muscles and with Allison about maps. He’s really opened up, and it’s great - he’s great. I - so - yeah.” Stiles looked embarrassed, and Talia was fighting a smile. 

“You obviously care about him. Which is why I don’t worry as much as I used to.”

Stiles’ face pinked, and he looked down at the floor. Interesting. 

“Thank you,” Talia said to him, making him look back up at her. “Thank you for - whatever it is you did that brought him out of that room. He used to be quite the joyful child, you know. You may remember. It’s been so long - so thank you for your friendship and the care you’ve taken. And,” she leaned back in her chair. “Derek told me that you’ve been helping him adjust to being touched again.”

Stiles colored even further. “Not anything - uh - untoward, your majesty, um, your - m’lady, just like a hug or something. He refuses to take the gloves off, even though Deaton trained me to use the spell and I do it every day before I even knock on his door -”

“I wouldn’t push with that, Stiles. He has had some horrific ends to taking those gloves off.”

Stiles looked away again. “Yes, of course.”

Talia stood and Stiles nearly fell over trying to stand as well. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Stilinski. I am grateful to you. You may go.”

“Thank you, your ma- um. Thank you,” he said, and bowed before leaving, the door clicking softly shut. 

Something in his eyes had lit up when talking about Derek. And something in Derek’s eyes had shone out when talking about Stiles. Talia remembered how close they had been sitting in the circle - thought about how much sheer time the two must spend together - and had a wonderful thought. A wonderful, potential thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may or may not be some UST and then some RST in the next two chapters...^^
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com) and yell at me in the comments.


	21. The Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek had never, ever touched Stiles with his hands before, even encased in the gloves, but now he could not find the will to let go. Stiles’ wrists were warm and bony through the enchanted cloth, and Stiles seemed to be holding his breath. They were so close together, Derek swore he could feel Stiles’ pulse racing along with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay HELLO YES here I am with some presents for you - read for FEELS and FLUFF and TENSION and UST and HALE FAMILY FEELS okay and thank you for reading you're great
> 
> Guess who is awesome, MY BETAS, [liz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wondrousstrangesnow/pseuds/wondrousstrangesnow) and [alex](http://archiveofourown.org/users/apollojolras/pseuds/apollojolras). Yep.

Derek’s mother’s visit was heavy on his mind for the remainder of the day, and the one after that. Stiles could tell something was different, but thankfully, he didn’t pressure Derek into talking about it. Stiles was good at that - allowing Derek space. Somehow in the middle of that allowance, Stiles had also completely turned Derek’s world upside down without him even realizing it. 

Three days after his mother’s visit, Derek woke early, nervous and excited. Today was the day he would say something. He needed to at least explain his behavior for the last few days to Stiles, and - and maybe Stiles would - would want - 

_Nope, no, no, don’t._ Derek didn’t want his mind to get away from him. He was merely going to be honest with Stiles, because he owed him at least that much. 

Derek was all nervous energy - he couldn’t stop pacing, hands shaking. He had to do something or he was going to lose his mind. He thought about running laps around the corridor like he had taken to since Stiles had convinced him to come out of his room, but he didn’t want to leave his sanctuary quite yet. On this morning of potential. 

Derek dropped to the floor and started doing pushups. He had been doing a lot of pushups because of Stiles lately.

_Tap-tap-tap._

In his haste to stand and get to the door, Derek literally smacked himself in the face with his own knee. 

“Ow! Oh shit - ugh,” he said, grabbing on to his nose and cheek, the pain blooming out from under his eye.

“Derek? You okay?” Stiles asked through the door. 

“Yeah, yeah, just - hold on.”

Derek unlocked the door and swung it open, still holding his face, and Stiles’ smile quickly dropped to a look of concern. 

“What - are you okay? What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing, I just - hit myself - and -”

Derek wasn’t used to getting hurt. He didn’t do a lot of risky things, and could count on his hands how many times he had seen his own blood, so when his glove came away bloody, he stared at it, shocked. 

“Holy - you’re bleeding, hold on,” Stiles said, and started digging through his bag. He pulled out a cloth and reached out, stopping just before he touched Derek. 

“I - can I?”

Derek’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. This wasn’t exactly what he had pictured happening today, but - any excuse to touch Stiles. 

“Yeah, uh. That’s fine.”

Derek quickly dropped his hands away, clasping them tightly behind his back, and held his breath. 

Stiles’ hands were gently cupping his jaw and wiping the blood from under his nose, and from where Derek had smudged it across his cheek. Derek winced when Stiles moved over the bruise that was starting to form, and Stiles made a worried noise. 

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, surprised to see how close Stiles was to him. His eyes dropped to the other boy’s mouth, Stiles’ bottom lip caught in his teeth in unconscious concentration. He hadn’t really put a whole lot of thought into kissing anyone before - but now it was all he could think about. Stiles hummed and Derek felt his ears begin to turn red with embarrassment. His gaze flew up to Stiles’ eyes, sure that he had been caught staring, but Stiles wasn’t looking at him. Golden brown was hidden from Derek’s view by long, dark eyelashes, matched with a strong brow that was furrowed in concern. Derek let his eyes roam over the details of Stiles’ face, and his breath hitched when he was suddenly hit with the thought of _He’s beautiful._ Where the hell had _that_ come from? Is that part of what it’s like to like someone?

He didn’t have time to answer his own question when Stiles looked up at him through his eyelashes, and both of them froze. Derek felt like he couldn’t even breathe, his brain spinning with the warmth of Stiles’ hands on his skin and the soft feeling of Stiles’ breath against his lips. He watched with wide eyes as Stiles’ eyes flickered down to stare at Derek’s mouth, and he couldn’t stop himself from self-consciously licking his lips. A soft sound escaped from Stiles then, and his hands twitched where they cradled Derek’s face. Derek found himself wondering what Stiles would taste like. A blush rose high on Stiles’ cheeks and he looked down at his feet, immediately pulling his hands away from him, but Derek’s hands started moving without his permission, shooting up to wrap around Stiles’ wrists and stop him from moving any further away. Stiles gasped and looked up at Derek, eyes big and dark and face set in a wondering expression that Derek couldn’t even hope to decipher. 

Derek had never, ever touched Stiles with his hands before, even encased in the gloves, but now he could not find the will to let go. Stiles’ wrists were warm and bony through the enchanted cloth, and Stiles seemed to be holding his breath. They were so close together, Derek swore he could feel Stiles’ pulse racing along with his own. 

“Derek?” Stiles whispered, and Derek realized he had just been staring, holding tightly to Stiles wrists. Derek didn’t know what the look on his face meant. Oh gods, what if Stiles didn’t want to kiss Derek? Or be this close to him? What if Stiles was just waiting for him to let go? And Derek was practically _holding him in place against his will?_

“Gods, sorry, sorry,” he said, immediately releasing Stiles’ hands - which were now marked with Derek’s blood, after he had touched his bleeding nose with the gloves. “Sorry,” he said again, and Stiles rubbed his hands along the bottom of his tunic. 

“It’s fine,” Stiles said softly, looking down. 

“I’m. I think I’m just gonna read,” Derek said, looking down at his gloves. They were his favorite ones, but now they were covered in blood, so he supposed he could use the next best pair. 

“Uh, okay,” Stiles said, sounding a little worried. Derek turned back to his room without looking at Stiles, embarrassment still burning his ears. He didn’t close the door, though - he liked being able to see Stiles working on a new weaving, this one for Erica. They spent the day in mostly silence, Derek not getting up the nerve to try talking to Stiles after the debacle that morning, and Stiles not wanting to disturb Derek as he read. Every so often he would look up, as if he had something to say, but Derek would pretend to keep reading, so Stiles would sigh and look back down. It wasn’t exactly bad, but it was unusual, and Derek worried that he had made Stiles uncomfortable with the grabbing and the blood and - 

“Boyd, you’re early,” Stiles said, standing. Surprised, Derek looked up to the window, and sure enough, the sun was setting. 

“Barely,” Boyd grunted. “Move.” 

“Fine, fine, no need to go caveman on me,” Stiles grumbled, gathering up his stuff, spread out all over the table and floor. No matter what Stiles was doing, it got everywhere. 

Derek watched as the two exchanged spots, and then Stiles was standing at Derek’s door, looking uncertain of his welcome for the first time in weeks. 

“I’ll see you - on Friday?” Stiles asked, and of course Derek had picked Wednesday - the day before Stiles’ day off - to screw everything up.

“Yeah, Friday. I’ll be here.” 

Stiles smiled - it was a bit of a joke between them, Stiles always making it sound like he wasn’t sure Derek would be there the next day. Stiles was the one that had made him push his boundaries in the first place; there was no way he was going anywhere further without him. 

Stiles stood at the door for a moment longer, looking almost hopeful, but when Derek just stared blankly back at him, he sighed and turned, waving at Boyd as he left. The whole exchange - the whole day, really - had left Derek feeling strangely empty and off balance. 

Maybe Stiles would forget the whole thing happened and they could go back to normal on Friday. 

\-------------------

Laura and Cora appeared at his door the next day, and it made Derek a little suspicious that they had waited for the day Stiles wouldn’t be there to show up, because there’ was no way that was a coincidence. 

Their presence was not unexpected, but still nerve wracking. Derek knew his family talked about him - stories spread almost the same day they happened, like when Laura had gotten Derek to admit he hated the cake his mother had sent up for a holiday, and then Derek had requested a salacious romance novel to be enchanted for his birthday. The fact that Derek had openly let the queen into his room was the biggest gossip in years amongst the royal family. 

Derek was still unsettled about the almost-whatever that had happened yesterday with Stiles, and now he had to deal with his sisters without Stiles to cushion the blow. Stiles had actually talked to Derek about the possibility, of re-establishing the connection with his family, and at the time Derek had been optimistic. It had been ages since he felt truly connected with his sisters and mother. He had always wished to get to know his youngest siblings better, but now the imminent prospect was terrifying. 

Derek still kept his door cracked open on the days Danny took Stiles’ seat. The door had become almost a symbolic representation of Derek’s mood, and he only closed it all the way when he was having a really bad day or needed some privacy. So he heard his two sisters whispering as they approached, and when they fell silent, noticing the door wasn’t closed all they way. 

Danny greeted them formally, and Derek could imagine Laura and Cora with their choreographed curtsies. Derek sat rigidly on the edge of his bed, clenching and unclenching his fists, wrinkling his gloves. 

The girls stood awkwardly outside the cracked door, Laura peeking through and ducking out of sight when she noticed that Derek was staring at her. 

“Just open the door,” Derek sighed, and the door swung open. 

“Derek. Hi,” Laura said. It was strangely uncomfortable between them, and the awkward silence reminded Derek of the do-you-ever-masturbate-up-here-all-alone conversation Laura had cornered him into when he was 16. 

“Hi,” Derek said back, not moving. There was more silence.

“This is stupid,” Cora broke in. “Mom said you - she said you let her - we just want to talk to you, so can we come in?”

Derek looked back at his sisters, their faces open and hopeful, and almost said no. It would be so easy to say no, and it would come as no surprised. Nothing had to change. 

“Yes,” he said quietly, and they took a breath and crossed the threshold together. 

Both looked curiously around the room just like Talia had, and Derek was suddenly very aware of his sparse decorations and dusty shelves.

“I like this, where did you get it?” Laura asked, and he watched enviously as she brushed the fabric of the weaving on the wall with her hand. 

“Stiles makes those. I liked that one so he gave it to me.”

The sisters exchanged a glance. 

“We were wondering about Stiles,” Cora said, leaning up against the bookshelf, unknowingly in Stiles’ usual spot. 

“What about him?” Derek asked, clenching his hands again. 

“You know. Just in general, how it’s going with him,” Laura said, leaning next to Cora. 

“Well it’s odd that you’re so curious about him on the only day that he’s not here. Come back to tomorrow and ask him yourself.”

Cora rolled her eyes and Laura groaned out a “Dereeeeeek…”

He slid off the bed to stand and crossed his arms. “Fine. What did mom already tell you?”

“Nothing,” they said in unison, which was _so_ not obvious. 

“Yeah right. You tell me, and I’ll _think_ about telling you something.  If there is anything to tell in the first place.”

Cora glared. Derek glared back. 

“Okay, okay, fine,” Laura said. “Mom said that you said that you were maybe having trouble because of some unspecified feelings about someone and you didn’t know what to do because you’re a big dumb.”

Cora snorted and Derek turned his glare to Laura. 

“She did not say that.”

“It was implied,” she said, grinning.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Derek said, moving to get back up on his bed.

“Derek! Come on! You used to tell me everything.” 

He could hear Laura’s pout without seeing her face, and he looked up at the ceiling. He really didn’t want to talk about this with his sisters, but who better to ask? They knew more about this stuff than he did and it was WAY less awkward than asking his mom. The only other person he’d want to tell was Stiles, and well…

“I may be having - unspecified feelings - about someone - and I might be worried that he doesn’t feel the same way,” Derek mumbled. 

“Yes!” Cora whispered, and he turned just in time to see the two of them high-fiving each other. He rolled his eyes at them. 

“So what are you going to do about it?” Laura asked. 

“I don’t know,” Derek said, rubbing his hands over his face. “I was gonna say something yesterday - maybe - but then I almost -”

He stopped, and could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He bet his ears were bright red, too. 

“Almost?” Laura repeated. Both sisters were leaning forward in anticipation. 

“IthinkIalmostkissedhim,” Derek mumbled. 

“Kissed him??” “YOU KISSED STILES?!” They yelled, and Derek shushed them both, glancing to the open door to where Danny could 100% hear them. Danny had looked over with wide eyes, and then seeing Derek’s expression, nodded, stood and walked down the hall and around the corner. Derek sighed, grateful that he had SOME people who knew when to leave good enough alone. 

“Almost. _Almost,_ did you just decide not to hear that part? ALMOST. We did not - I didn’t actually kiss him.”

“Oh, but you wanted to,” Laura said, making Cora snort. 

“Yes, okay, I wanted to, but I don’t - I think he doesn’t.”

“What? Seriously? You don’t think Stilinski has had a hard on for you since he freaking MET you?” 

Derek glared a Cora. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, Derek, she’s not kidding. He and I were really good friends - before - and now I see him all the time and every time the guy can’t shut up about you. He’s head over heels.” Laura crossed her arms. “Why the hell don’t you think he likes you too?”

Derek’s ears were burning even worse now. “I don’t know. I - I’ve never - no one -” Derek hated moments like this. He felt like a little kid all over again, unable to express his thoughts and feeling like an idiot when he stumbled over them. Stiles never had problems expressing himself. Maybe it was his own fault, locking himself away from everyone, that he wasn’t good with words. He hadn’t spoken this much since he was a child. 

“I’ve never done this before,” he finally settled on, and Laura took a step towards him. Derek didn’t flinch away, which wasn’t new to him, but Laura’s eye widened and it hurt a little to realize how much he’d ostracized himself from his own family. He kept forgetting how it used to be, the Before Stiles. 

“You can touch me,” he said quietly, and Laura glanced at Cora and then back at Derek. 

“Are - are you sure?” She asked, just as quietly, as if she could break the moment with her voice. 

“I’m - getting better. I’m getting used to it. Stiles is helping, and his friends - even mom - uh. It was okay. It’s okay.”

Laura sucked in a breath and softly stretched her fingers over his arm. The touch didn’t seem so foreign anymore; Stiles had been absentmindedly grabbing his arms and shoulders for weeks now. Cora came up on the other side of Derek and mirrored Laura’s movements, and Derek took a shaky breath. Both his sisters were staring at him, as if waiting for him to tell them to back off. Yell at them to leave him alone, just like he had many times before. 

“It’s okay,” he said again, this time stronger, and somehow that broke down the wall. Laura practically flung herself forward, hugging him tightly, and Cora followed suit until both were pressed against his chest, the hair at the top of their heads tickling his nose. He froze, not expecting such movement or ferocity, but then both girls were crying and Laura was saying how much she missed him all the time and Cora was going on about how freaking tall he was and Derek just relaxed into it and brought his arms up against their backs and held his family close. It was almost too much, making his own eyes tear up, and they stood like that for a good long while until the girls had stopped crying and Derek could pretend he hadn’t started in the first place. 

“I love you so much, you idiot,” Laura said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Cora nodded. “Me too.” 

“I - you too,” Derek said, and they smiled at him. He found himself smiling back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be RST or at least like the PG version of RST in the next chapter. The 'almost' becomes an 'actual.' MWAHAHAHHAHA
> 
> Seriously thank you for continuing reading this I love you guys I know it's been like the slowest burn in the world but IT'LL BE WORTH IT OKAY  
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com) and yell at me in the comments.


	22. The Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t think much of his hands, or any part of his body, really - but Stiles gaze had lingered enough to make Derek wonder what Stiles’ thought. Now, Stiles honey eyes were fixated on Derek’s hands, running over them like they were something precious rather than tools of death. 
> 
> “Hmm.” 
> 
> “What.” 
> 
> “Nothing, I just - I thought they wouldn’t look like normal hands.”
> 
> “Why.” 
> 
> “Because they’re magic,” Stiles said, looking up to meet Derek’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, OKAY? This was SUPPOSED to be the fluffy feeling makeout session we'd all been waiting for but these IDIOTS just HAVE TO BE ANGSTY. APPARENTLY. 
> 
> Enjoy, I guess.

Derek had seen people kiss. Derek had _read_ about people kissing and - other things. But he knew how it worked. Lips. It was simple, right?

Laura had let it slip once that she used to practice on her hand, which - Derek didn’t get. How would the hand help? It’s not like your hand was anything like lips. Or how Derek imagined lips would feel. 

That didn’t stop him from trying, once or twice after Laura had started talking about dating people and kissing and doing all the things Derek was sure he’d never do. 

But _Stiles_...

Derek was even more nervous on Friday morning, because Stiles was going to be back today, and after talking with Laura and Cora, he had decided he needed to at least come clean about his feelings. He was scared, sure - but as Laura had pointed out, Stiles probably liked him a little. He had been really nice to Derek and helped him make friends and was helping him with other things, and Derek didn’t know how to deal with all of it. 

But being honest with his best friend sounded like a good start. 

Derek had forgotten how much better it made him feel to talk to his sisters. It would sometimes be months between what Laura called “feeling conversations,” or basically any conversation that made Derek feel uncomfortable. Regardless, he usually came out feeling better, and yesterday had been no exception. 

_Tap-tap-tap._

Derek swung around, shook from his thoughts by the knock, and then slid off his bed in a panic as he realized he _didn’t have the gloves on._

“Hey, Der - can I come in?”

Derek was tangled up in his sheet, thrashing on the floor, trying to get free and reaching for the dresser on which the gloves sat, over by the door. 

“Derek?”

Shit shit, SHIT, Stiles sounded worried and when Stiles got worried he usually just opened the _door -_

Which was happening. Now. 

“Derek? Are you - okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Derek growled, now hiding his hands in the sheet, which was still covering his face. Stiles made an amused sound and Derek heard him come closer, his shadow kneeling in front of Derek.

“Stiles, don’t - “

Stiles pulled the sheet away from Derek’s face, and Derek glared at him. Stiles smiled. It was worrying, being this close to Stiles without his gloves, but still relatively safe with his hands wrapped up in his sheets - but it was also exhilarating because Derek was splayed out on his back and Stiles was leaning over him, close enough to count his eyelashes. _How did Stiles have such pretty eyelashes? Why?_

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Have we reverted back to strictly monosyllabic responses?”

“...No.”

Stiles laughed at that, and Derek huffed back at him. Then Stiles started to pull the sheet off of him.

“No! NO! Don’t!”

Stiles stopped what he was doing, wide-eyed. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Stiles, I need you to back away from me.”

Stiles frowned at him.

“I don’t have my gloves on,” Derek mumbled after a moment, and that made Stiles sit up. Instead of moving away, like any self-respecting normal person, he leaned forward. 

“Can I see?”

“What? No, get away. I don’t - I need to have them on around you just - because I - it’s not safe, Stiles, get up.”

“Why can’t I just see? I have literally never seen your hands, dude, it’s not like I’m gonna reach out and grab you, I’m not stupid. Plus, I trust you. Just for a second and then you can put them back on.”

Derek was pulled back into a memory of Paige saying almost the exact same thing before Derek had killed her. His breathing grew ragged, and he was worried about being pulled into a panic, but when he looked up at Stiles, he could feel the panic slip away.

“No,” Derek whispered. It still wasn’t safe.

Stiles sighed. “You know, I’m not going to fight you about this, but it’s really just - I was just curious.”

He sounded so ridiculously disappointed about Derek’s HANDS of all things, Derek let out a breath and said, “Fine,” before Stiles could stand up completely. 

Stiles stopped moving and sat back down. 

“No. Move further away from me. Up against the dresser.”

Stiles obeyed him without protest. He was honestly too far away for Derek to touch even if he tried, so - it was probably okay. Derek slowly pulled his hands out from the sheet, which took a couple seconds because he was still wrapped up in the thing. Once he was free, he held his hands out, palms out, fingers pointing at Stiles. Stiles leaned closer. 

“Stiles - don’t -” Derek said, pulling his hands back. 

“Derek, I swear, I will not let you touch me. I am in no danger.” 

Derek took a deep breath and looked Stiles right in the eye. This was okay, he thought. Stiles would be fine. 

So he held his hands out again and this time, made himself stay still when Stiles leaned closer. 

He didn’t think much of his hands, or any part of his body, really - but Stiles gaze had lingered enough to make Derek wonder what Stiles’ thought. Now, Stiles honey eyes were fixated on Derek’s hands, running over them like they were something precious rather than tools of death. 

“Hmm.” 

“What.” 

“Nothing, I just - I thought they wouldn’t look like normal hands.”

“Why.” 

“Because they’re magic,” Stiles said, looking up to meet Derek’s eyes. 

“They’re not magic, they’re cursed,” Derek said, tucking his hands back into the sheet. 

“That’s still magic,” Stiles said, standing. He grabbed Derek’s gloves from the dresser behind him, dropping them into Derek’s lap, and watched as Derek glared and pulled both gloves on. Something in Derek’s chest settled with the familiar warmth of the gloves - he was safe now. So was Stiles. 

“How was - uh - your day off?” Derek asked. He always felt awkward starting the conversation, but he desperately wanted the attention off of him for a moment. 

Stiles was always good at diverting attention. He was off, complaining good-naturedly about his father, and the market, and then Scott and Deaton and Erica, and Derek nodded along, fascinated as always as Stiles gestured wildly. He ended up bringing his bag into the room, pulling half of a new weaving and several books out, along with a stone and some herbs. 

He suddenly stopped in the middle of his story about Deaton’s fire charm and stared out at the things spread on the floor. 

“What?” Derek asked, curious. 

“Nothing, I just - I’ve been practicing this spell for weeks and never got to try it out.”

“What spell?”

“You know what spell.”

Derek sucked in a breath. Stiles had told him about the spell that Deaton had taught him, and he had adamantly refused to let him try it. Stiles hadn’t brought it up since, mostly because Derek had practically kicked him out when he mentioned it. 

“You know, I do it every day before I come over here. It lasts for like, an hour. It’s still active now - it’s only been about 20 minutes since I did it.”

“Stiles -”

“I understand that you’re scared and I know it’s a lot to deal with, but I think you should try it.”

“I - Stiles - “

“If you never try anything different you’re going to be stuck in here forever.”

“Stiles - “

“And letting something that happened 20 years ago dictate everything you do for the rest of your life is really, really stupid and pointless and I think you deserve more than that.”

“STILES.”

Finally, he stopped. Stiles looked angry. And - what he said had merit. But even the thought shot panic through Derek’s chest and made him see flashes of gold. Deadly, haunting gold. 

“You’re right. I’m scared,” Derek started, speaking softly. “Because I’ve hurt people before. People I cared about. And you -” Derek looked up to meet Stiles eyes, and then looked back down at his hands. “I didn’t know I would ever care about anyone ever again. And then you showed up, and - and - you changed everything. You completely - changed me. And I don’t know what I would do if I lost you now. You - you’re so -”

“Derek, Derek, hey, it’s okay, just - calm down, it’s okay,” Stiles murmured to him, and Derek hadn’t realized his eyes were pooling with tears. Stiles was kneeling on the floor next to him and both his hands were cradling Derek’s face. Derek leaned into the touch without consciously meaning to - it was an automatic reaction these days, and Stiles had such wonderful hands. Stiles wiped away the tears with his thumbs and gave him a small smile. 

“I care about you too, big guy. And that’s why I think you need to do this. I think - I think it’s time you tried to not let your power control you.”

Derek sniffed and pulled away, wiping his face with the back of his gloves. His hands were shaking, but he looked up at Stiles, and nodded. 

Stiles’ eyebrows jumped up, and he took a deep breath. “You’re sure? You don’t have to - obviously, but like I said, this will be good for you, and it’s not like you’ll hurt me, I’m all magicked up and shit - Deaton wouldn’t have let me come back up here if he wasn’t sure, and I promise I’ve practiced a lot, and -”

Derek held out a hand, palm up, silently offering. 

“Can you do it?” He asked. 

Stiles looked down at the glove, and then up at Derek, and then nodded. 

Derek held his breath as Stiles gripped the fingertip of the glove, pulling it slowly off. The room felt cold to his hand, as it usually did right at first, and his hands were still shaking. He had expected Stiles to just reach out and touch him, but he instead reached down and took hold of Derek’s other hand, pulling it out and taking the glove off as well, until he had both hands out, palms up, exactly like he had been holding them for Stiles’ earlier perusal. 

“Stiles, are you - you did the spell, and you’re sure it will work? How can you be sure? You’ve never tried it before, how does Deaton know?”

“Deaton has enchanted all the things in this room, hasn’t he? I have a feeling he’d know which spell to use.”

Derek glanced behind him to the bed, eye flitting over the bookshelf and all his possessions that had been enchanted. Looking back at Stiles, Derek’s heart pounded in his chest. 

“You have to breathe, Derek.”

Derek let out a breath and immediately sucked another one in. Stiles grinned at him. Then, without warning, he took hold of Derek’s wrists and brought Derek’s hands up to his face. 

“Stiles, wait, what if -”

But it was too late. Derek’s hands were now cradling Stiles’ face, Stiles hands still holding onto Derek’s wrists. Derek let out another breath, this time slowly.

Stiles’ skin was warm and smooth in his hands. The sharp curve of his jaw was at odds with the softness of his cheeks. Derek moved his fingertips down without meaning to, and Stiles let go of his wrists, letting Derek go where he wanted. Derek traced a line down Stiles’ hairline, across his cheekbones. 

“You’re - you’re not - you’re okay?” Derek asked, even though it was fairly obvious. The transformations with Paige and his father had been instantaneous, and Stiles was still Stiles - whole and warm and distinctly skin colored rather than shimmering gold. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s a little tingly, actually, but Deaton told me that was normal. Seems to be working.”

Derek laughed, his voice rough, and realized that his eyes were leaking again. Stiles softly brushed away his tears again, letting his hands drop to his lap as Derek kept tracing the lines Stiles’ face. Derek remembered how good it had felt when Stiles had run his hands through his hair, so Derek shuffled forward on his knees and pushed his hands into the thick hair at the back of Stiles’ neck, marveling at the feeling and then blushing at the noise Stiles made. It was a good noise, Derek assumed, because Stiles leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, but it made Derek’s insides feel hot. 

With Stiles’ eyes closed, Derek felt less awkward staring at Stiles, literally close enough to touch. He pulled his hands back to Stiles’ face, who kept his eyes closed, and Derek traced over his eyebrows and jawline, remembering how much he’d liked it when Stiles had done that to him. Then, feeling brave in this new revelation, Derek traced lightly over Stiles lips, causing Stiles to gasp and open his eyes. 

They were so very, very close, and Derek was staring at Stiles’ lips, but he couldn’t look away this time. 

“Derek?”

Derek looked up to Stiles’ eyes. He didn’t look in any way disgusted to be so close, in fact - he looked like he was anticipating something. They were very close together, Derek felt intoxicated by the proximity. It was now or never. He decided that the most concise way of sharing his feelings was to just - go for it. 

So he leaned in the last little bit and kissed Stiles on the lips. 

It was short, and warm, and soft, and Derek wanted a hundred more. But Stiles pulled away, eyes wide.

“Derek? What - what are you doing?”

“Sorry, I just - do you not want to - is that not okay?” Derek asked, a cold tendril of fear curling around him.

“I don’t understand,” was all Stiles said. He had moved out of Derek’s grip, but not much further - their knees were still touching on the floor. 

“Sorry, I - I meant to talk to you about this.”

“Can you talk about it now?” Stiles asked, looking confused. 

“Laura and Cora came by - yesterday - and they said - well, I said - I decided I needed to tell you something.”

Stiles stayed silent, waiting. Derek cleared his throat, feeling suddenly unsure, and pulled his hands back into his lap. Stiles looked confused. 

“Mostly, I was just - I was wondering - you said you cared about me.”

“Yes,” Stiles said, rather apprehensively. 

“Well, I was wondering, in what way?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re - friends?”

“Yes, of course,” Stiles nodded.

“Do you want more than that?”

Stiles sucked in a surprised breath. 

Derek’s heart was racing. “Because I think I do. Want more,” he said. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

“Derek - I -”

“Do you?”

Stiles stared at him for a long moment, eyes flicking over his face. 

“Yes,” he finally said. “I do want more than that.”

Butterflies erupted in Derek’s stomach, and he grinned widely. “Okay. Okay, good. I mean, that’s - I’m glad.”

“But I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

All of the butterflies suddenly became stones. 

“What?” Derek asked, frowning. “Why?”

“Derek -” Stiles started, and he was standing, pulling away - 

Derek stood as well, resisting the urge to grab onto Stiles’ hands, though - now he knew he could. 

Stiles ran his hands through his hair like he did when he was worked up. “This - this is complicated.”

“I don’t understand why,” Derek said, feeling his face shut down. Everything suddenly felt wrong. 

“Derek,” Stiles said, turning back towards him, and taking both his hands. Derek flinched away at the contact, still unused to it, but Stiles’ hands felt so wonderful in his own, on his own skin, that he didn’t pull away.

“Listen to me. You’re - I don’t think you really like me. I’m - I’m the only person you’ve been close to in the last 15 years, and this is just a - a reaction to that friendship. There’s no way you really feel the way you say you do. I’m not - I’m just - just the only option.” Stiles spoke with such resigned acceptance, Derek took a moment to process his words.

“What?” Derek said, pulling his hands away. “You - what the hell, Stiles?” He was suddenly furious, anger breaking on his mind like a dam breaking open. “How can you say that? How can you THINK that?”

“Derek -”

“Get out.” 

Derek was glaring at the floor, and Stiles fell silent. It had been weeks, MONTHS, since Derek had forcibly told Stiles to leave, and even longer since Derek had truly meant it. 

“You -”

“Get out, Stiles. You obviously - if you’re not going to take my feelings seriously, and talk down to me like a child that doesn’t understand anything, you can get out.”

Stiles stood frozen, staring at Derek. To Derek’s horror, he felt more tears spilling down his face, but he continued on. 

“Just because - because - I’ve been in this room for my whole life doesn’t mean I don’t know anything. I’m not an idiot. And I have feelings. Just because I can’t - I don’t know how - I can’t talk about them doesn’t mean they’re not there. So go sit out in your chair and ignore me like you used to. Obviously you’re more comfortable that way.”

“Derek, that’s not what I’m saying, I’m trying to -”

“I don’t care, get out. Get OUT!” Derek yelled, stepping forward. It had the intended effect, Stiles stepping backwards towards the door, and Derek couldn’t make himself look up to see the expression on Stiles’ face. He didn’t care are the moment. Stiles meant everything to him, and he had just - 

“Okay,” Stiles said softly, turning and walking out. He didn’t close the door, because he never did these days, but Derek followed him and gripped the handle. 

“I’m sorry, Derek, I just want to make sure you -”

“Just. Leave me alone,” Derek said, and shut the door in Stiles’ face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sort of sorry, and I 100% promise they will make up. SOON. 
> 
> [tumblr.](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com)


	23. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John stood with his arms crossed in Stiles doorway, glaring down at his son (who was still in bed), and Stiles sighed and closed his eyes. John waited and wasn’t expecting Stiles’ voice to suddenly wobble with tears. 
> 
> “Dad, I - I messed up.”
> 
> John immediately sat on the edge of the bed, worried. Stiles started rambling, getting more worked up as he went.
> 
> “I think - I think I have feelings for Prince Derek. And he thinks he likes me too, but - he doesn’t. There’s no way."
> 
> \----
> 
> Derek dropped his eyes from Stiles’ face to look at the floor, and held his breath, waiting to hear the door open and close as Stiles walked out. 
> 
> Instead, he jumped as Stiles’ hand cupped his jaw, tilting his face up to kiss him lightly on the mouth. Derek inhaled shakily, still frozen, as Stiles pulled back just enough to speak against Derek’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes hello I am back sorry it's been so long
> 
> This is the one you've been waiting for - Merry Christmas - and thank you so much for waiting so long - but it's hERE!! And it HAPPENS!! And everyone is happy! Woo!
> 
> Thank you so much to my betas, and happy reading!

Derek’s door stayed closed for 3 days. 

Stiles tried everything - knocking, talking, singing, sliding things under the door, putting ridiculous things in the slot in the wall, and even resorted to threatening to not put food through if Derek didn’t open. That one made him feel like an absolute ass the moment it left his mouth, so he put part of his lunch through the slot as well as Derek’s to sort of apologize. 

Stiles had thought he was being realistic - there was no way in hell Derek would have feelings for him without the close context they had kept. Stiles wasn’t material made to match a prince. He was gangly and awkward and annoying and didn’t remember things very well and was sometimes an asshole and couldn’t keep his mouth shut - 

Derek didn’t need that. Derek deserved someone better. But he may never get the chance to meet someone better, locked up in his tower. 

Stiles wasn’t going to let Derek settle for second best, regardless. Just because STILES was head over heels for the prince didn’t mean that he deserved Derek. He didn’t. 

So he delivered his resignation from the royal employ to Parrish, too scared to give it to Queen Talia in person, and closed himself into his room at home, claiming he was sick when his dad asked why he wasn’t going to work. Stiles knew it was cowardly. He knew he was hiding away, but - he didn’t know what else to do. He had ruined one of the best friendships he had ever had and hurt Derek, who against all odds had let Stiles close to him. He didn’t want to be the cause of any more of Derek’s pain, so he left. 

He lasted two days before John caught on to him. Stiles wasn’t sick; he was hiding from something.

“What is going on with you, Stiles? You are not sick. I saw you eat four of Erica’s raspberry tarts in a row this morning. You can barely manage one when you’re under the weather. And you’ve been moping. Don’t deny it. I know you, kid, and something is wrong. What happened?”

John stood with his arms crossed in Stiles doorway, glaring down at his son (who was still in bed), and Stiles sighed and closed his eyes. John waited and wasn’t expecting Stiles’ voice to suddenly wobble with tears. 

“Dad, I - I messed up.”

John immediately sat on the edge of the bed, worried. Stiles started rambling, getting more worked up as he went.

“I think - I think I have feelings for Prince Derek. And he thinks he likes me too, but - he doesn’t. There’s no way, I’m just - it’s just proximity. How could he really - he - he deserves so much better anyway, and when I told him that, that he didn’t really - feel what he thought he did - he was just - furious with me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so mad, and he told me to get out, and then wouldn’t open his door, no matter what I did, and I - I really fucked up and I didn’t know what to do so I just LEFT, and I told the queen I couldn’t - couldn’t guard Derek anymore because I hurt him, and I didn’t want to hurt him anymore, and I don’t know what to do, but now I can’t fix it and - and -”

Stiles started to have trouble breathing, he was talking so fast, and the tears spilling down his face weren’t helping. John put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Stiles, Stiles, son, shh, calm down - don’t - you gotta breathe, Stiles. Breathe with me.”

John started to count out his breaths like he used to when Stiles got panicked. It didn’t take long until Stiles was breathing normally, and John resisted the urge to smack his only son upside his head for being an idiot. It was obvious Stiles was hurting, and he needed someone to help him figure out what to do. 

“Son,” John started and then sighed. “I don’t know why in the hell you think you’re not good enough for Derek Hale - even if he is a prince. You’re a damned good person. Honest and loyal and caring and stubborn, just like your mom. But even if you weren’t a match made for a prince, why do you get to decide who Derek has feelings for and who he doesn’t?”

Stiles didn’t seem to have an answer to that, twisting the sheet on the bed between his fingers. 

“Derek is a grown man, Stiles. Sheltered, yes, ignorant, maybe. But stupid? And unaware of his own emotions? No, I don’t think so. I don’t know the kid anymore, but you do. And I seriously doubt my boy would fall so hard for someone who didn’t even know what he was feeling. Maybe you jumped a little too far ahead on this one. Gods know you’ve never done that before.”

Stiles glared at his dad, who just laughed at him. John stood, ruffled his son’s hair, and bid him goodnight. Stiles stared down at his hands some more as John shut the door to his small room. 

John sighed to himself, running his hands through his hair. There was only one thing to be done. It wasn’t too late yet, so he grabbed a lantern and walked out the door of their small house on the grounds of the Hale castle. Taking a left down the street, he knocked lightly on the door of the house three down from his. 

There was a rustle of movement, and then the door swung open. 

“Captain Stilinski! Is everything okay? Let me just get Melissa, she’s in the back room -”

“No, actually, thank you, but I’m here for you. I need your help. It’s my idiot son.”

Lydia Martin raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms, smiling lightly in the lantern light. 

“Well captain, you better come inside.”

\------

Stiles was asleep when the door banged open. He blinked in the light, squinting up to see Lydia, Allison, Scott, and his dad staring down at him, all glaring (except Scott, who couldn’t hold a glare if his life depended on it).

“Wha- dad! Why did you let them in here?”

“It’s for your own good, son.”

“Stiles, you absolute idiot. Get dressed. We’re going to the castle.”

Stiles lifted the blanket back up over his face to hide from Lydia, who had her Don’t Even Try To Start Shit With Me face on. He hated that face - well, only when it was directed at him. It was hilarious to watch other people cower in front of her. 

“Stiles, come on,” Allison said, and the blanket was pulled off his face. Stiles glared at Allison, and Scott smiled at her like a love-struck teenager.

There was a knock at the front door, and John left the room to go see who it was. Probably Melissa. They thought they were so smooth. 

“Dude, you have to get up. And go with them. They will not be stopped.” 

Scott was the opposite of helpful even at the best of times. 

Stiles rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t want to go the castle, like, ever again. And they probably don’t want me there either. Okay? Just leave it alone.”

“No. Get dressed.”

“Lydia, you are not in charge of my life, so butt out.”

Stiles kept eye contact with her, a little terrified of what she might do as he had never said anything like that to her before, but she surprised him by sighing and sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

“Stiles. Whatever you think happened, whatever you’ve been telling yourself - probably not true. And hiding and running away only makes things worse. You can fix whatever this is between you and Derek - don’t look at me like that, of course your father told me - because you two care about each other a lot. Don’t look at me like that either, everybody knows you two are practically in love.”

“Lydia - What? No! I’m not - I’m not in love with Derek!”

“Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping you were,” another voice came from the doorway behind Allison, and Laura Hale stepped into the room. 

There was moment of silence, followed by a frenzy of motion, wherein Scott, Lydia and Allison all tried to bow, bumping into each other and mumbling greetings, while Stiles scrambled to get out of bed, realizing that he was only wearing underclothes and a shirt, tried to bring his blanket with him, tumbling onto the floor and landing in a heap at the crown princess’ feet. John stepped through the door a moment later, smacking himself in the face when he realized what had happened.

“I’m sorry, your majesty, I did warn you that you’d take him off guard.”

“Of course, captain. I remember Stiles’ flailing well, I expected nothing less.”

“Hey!” Stiles yelled from the floor, his indignation only slightly hindered by his limbs being twisted up in his bed sheets. He finally freed himself and stood, awkwardly holding the fabric in front of him. 

“I told you to get dressed,” Lydia smirked at him. 

“Oh shut up, you didn’t know she was gonna show up,” Stiles hissed back. 

“Regardless, I will be waiting in the kitchen for you to put pants on, and then we’ll talk. I have a feeling all of us are here for the same reason.”

Scott and Allison exchanged a glance as Laura swept out, John offering her some tea. Lydia glared pointedly at Stiles before slamming the door after they had all left his room. 

Stiles sat heavily on the edge of his bed. What was his life coming to?

 

\-----

Once dressed, Stiles emerged from his bedroom to quite the terrifying council gathered around the Stilinski’s kitchen table. Laura Hale sat in his dad’s usual spot, John next to her, Lydia on the other side. Scott and Allison were canoodling across from them, ignoring the conversation. Just as Stiles came into the room, Laura and his father burst into raucous laughter, which of course made Stiles suspicious. 

“Stiles, nice of you to join us,” Laura said, raising an eyebrow. Lydia was smiling widely. 

“What is going on? I can’t deal with all of this,” Stiles said, pulling out a stool next to his father.

“Don’t be dense. This is about Derek and you being an idiot.”

“How - what? You can’t - this is private. Just because you’re heir to the throne doesn’t mean you can meddle.”

“Stiles, don’t be rude,” John said, smacking him. 

“He’s right, captain. I am not here as a royal. I’m here as Derek’s sister, and on his behalf, I want you to come back and talk to him. And make him do that stupid love face again. You are not allowed to tell him that I like it, but I do. Much better than the scowl.”

Stiles knew his mouth was hanging open. He didn’t know what to do about it. 

“AND, I may or may not have threatened to break his door down is he didn’t tell me what was wrong, and he actually let me in his room and talked to me for the first time in forever, and I have you to thank for that. But then you went and got all self-sacrificing and stupid and you have to fix it.”

“Exactly,” Lydia said, and the two women exchanged a grin. Which was a phenomenally bad development. 

“Laura I can’t just go back and make everything fine again, he thinks he has feelings for me! He told me so, right after he KISSED ME.”

“He kissed you?!” Laura shrieked, and Scott kicked him under the table. “Dude, how did you not tell me that?”

Laura coughed, regaining her composure, and folded her hands under her chin. “Regardless of the fact that he didn’t tell me about that, the little shit, I’m more concerned with the fact that you are not taking my brother’s affections seriously. What the hell, Stiles?”

Stiles looked to his dad for help, but John just leaned back in his chair. Lydia was glaring at him, Scott was doing the head-tilt thing and Allison trying to glare like Lydia but it didn’t have quite the fire behind it. 

“I don’t - I don’t know how he could like _me_ ,” Stiles mumbled. 

“Ah,” Laura said, and just smiled bigger. It was a little creepy. “That? I can work with. Let’s go.”

“Go?” Stiles asked, watching as she stood. Lydia stood as well and Scott helped Allison out of her chair, the disgusting gentleman he was. 

“To the castle. To the prince.”

“What? No!” 

“Yes,” Laura said, pulling him out of his chair. 

“Dad? Scott?! THEY ARE KIDNAPPING ME -”

“You’re cute,” Lydia said, and they both shoved him out the door. 

\----

Stiles would like to say that they dragged him up to the east hall as sword point, but really - he missed Derek. A lot. And if Laura was telling the truth, rambling all the way up the stairs about what Derek had said to her - maybe he had a shot of fixing this after all.

Boyd was sitting at the table outside Derek’s door, even though it was midday. He stood when the four of them rounded the corner, bowing slightly to Laura. Stiles wasn’t expecting the glare that was turned his way after. 

“Stilinski. You absolute dickhead.”

“Wha - what?” Stiles said, both confused and amused out of his mind that Boyd had just called him a dickhead.

“I’m exhausted, because they didn’t have enough people to move the shifts around last minute, I haven’t seen Erica for two days, and it’s all your fault.”

“Sorry?” Stiles said, wincing. Boyd sighed.

“Just - fix it? Okay? Derek - he and I talk, sometimes. And I can tell that whatever this is? Is really messing him up. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t even want to know, but fucking fix it.”

“I - I’ll try,” was all Stiles could say. 

Laura passed him and rapped loudly on the door. 

“Derek, I know you can hear us, please open up!”

Silence. Stiles stared at the floor. Laura tried again. 

“Derek? I brought you something! Please?”

Nothing. 

Laura frowned at Boyd, who just shrugged. Lydia walked up beside Laura and knocked.

“Derek? We’d really like to talk to you.”

More nothing.

“DEREK,” she said forcefully, and banged louder. It didn’t help. 

They both turned to Stiles. He made a I-don’t-know-what-to-do gesture. Then Scott shoved him forward. 

“Come on, bro. Just try it,” he said, and Stiles was then facing the door. He took a deep breath, raised his hand and knocked. 

_Tap-tap-tap._

Silence. 

He started to turn around and admit defeat when the locked clicked. Stiles froze. The door swung open a few inches, and Derek was there, face carefully blank. Stiles ached in his chest at the sight of him - how had he forgotten how beautiful he was? It was even worse now that Stiles had been gone for so long - he needed to build up a tolerance for that level of ridiculous attractiveness. 

“Uh, hey,” Stiles said, and then immediately wanted to smack himself in the face. What an idiotic thing to -

“Hey,” Derek responded, voice soft. 

They just stared at each other for a moment. 

“Do you want to come in?” Derek asked, and Stiles was surprised. 

“Uh, yes. Sure! Please.”

Derek widened the door and glared as his gaze moved from Stiles to those behind him. 

“Kick his ass,” Lydia smirked. 

“No, be nice,” Scott said, leaning on her shoulder. 

“Have fun, be safe, don’t come out of there until someone has a hickey!” 

“Laura,” Derek growled, and Stiles could feel his face burn as he stepped over the threshold. 

\-----

When Derek closed the door behind Stiles, he honestly wasn’t expecting silence. Quiet Stiles was something Derek had discovered he didn’t like; Stiles was the one that was supposed to fill the silence around Derek. He could never seem to get the words right, but Stiles always could. 

Stiles, who was standing in the middle of the room, looking more awkward to be there than he had in months. Derek scowled at the floor.

He was still mad at Stiles, but not nearly as much as he had been the last time they saw each other. Time had cooled the anger, but so had talking with Laura - she threw a new light on the subject and pointed out that Stiles, misguided as he was, was only trying to do what was best for Derek. 

Derek was sick of people trying to protect him. 

“Okay,” Stiles finally broke the silence, and Derek took a breath. “Okay, you have every right to be mad at me, because I made it seem - I guess I - I didn’t mean to decided FOR you. You’ve already had so many decisions taken from you, I never want to - I didn’t - I don’t really know what I was thinking. I just - I got scared. Maybe. And I believe you, I believe that you care - about me, and I care about you, but you - I don’t know why you care about me. You deserve so much more than what I can give you, Derek, and I don’t want you to waste your - uh, feelings - on the first person you - on - on me. I don’t want you to settle for me because there’s so much out there! There are so many more people and so much world and I’m just me, so it doesn’t make sense for you to just -”

Derek had reached out to grab Stiles’ arm, making Stiles’ words come to a halt. Stiles was warm, even through the fabric of his shirt and Derek’s glove, and Derek wanted to wrap his arms all the way around him, but they had to figure this out first. 

“You’re so incredible, Derek, and I don’t deserve to have you.”

Derek found himself at even more of a loss for words than usual, and so instead of talking, he raised his hands to Stiles’ face. His gloves were still on, but he traced down the lines of Stiles’ eyebrows, his ears, his cheekbones, his jaw. Stiles just watched him with wide eyes. When Derek got to Stiles’ lips, Stiles gasped just like before. And Derek leaned in, just like before, and kissed Stiles softly. Instead of pulling away, Stiles sucked in a surprised breath and parted his lips, giving Derek a chance to taste him, hot and wet and something Derek never wanted to stop tasting again. Derek had no idea what he was doing, but slowly Stiles took the lead and their lips slid together in tandem, gentle breaths and strokes of tongue. It was far more than Derek could have anticipated and everything he wanted. 

Stiles hands twisted into Derek hair, but Derek kept his hands carefully cupping Stiles’ jaw, even now mindful of the gloves and the dangers they hid. Eventually they pulled apart, leaning their foreheads together, and Derek spoke, voice rough. 

“I don’t want anybody else. I don’t want to meet new people or discover the world if you’re not with me. I don’t know what this is, but I feel - I feel so many things I’ve never felt for you, Stiles. And just because I’m a prince doesn’t mean you don’t deserve - you - you deserve so much more than me. If anyone is settling, it’s you.”

Stiles pulled away forcefully, looking Derek in the eye. 

“What? What are you talking about?”

Derek dropped his hands and rubbed a hand over his neck. He’d had a lot of time to think - _obsess_ over what had happened, and Laura had come to talk to him about it. Some things she had said - made Derek think. Who was he to ask Stiles for more? He had nothing to offer - nothing to compare to Stiles. His joy, his charm, his beauty - his LIGHT. Derek couldn’t ask Stiles to - to do anything. He wished he had the strength to tell Stiles to leave, not come back and find someone else that would deserve him, but Stiles was right there in front of him, staring him down - and he at least deserved an explanation. 

“I’m - I’m a recluse, a - the - the cursed _freak_ who never comes out of his room! You could - Stiles, you could have anyone out there, anyone you wanted, I - I don’t know why you care about me, if you still do - and I almost wish you didn’t. I don’t want to trap you here, with me, but - I’m too selfish. I shouldn’t have said anything at all or kissed you but I’m - I’m too selfish and I love you too much to pretend I don’t anymore.”

Stiles’ eyes couldn’t possible get any wider, and Derek plunged on. 

“But now you know the truth, and you can - go back to wherever you went, don’t worry about me. I’ll be - okay. You helped me a lot, really, and you - deserve someone more than me. Laura just said I should at least tell you the truth. So please just go now.” 

Derek dropped his eyes from Stiles’ face to look at the floor, and held his breath, waiting to hear the door open and close as Stiles walked out. 

Instead, he jumped as Stiles’ hand cupped his jaw, tilting his face up to kiss him lightly on the mouth. Derek inhaled shakily, still frozen, as Stiles pulled back just enough to speak against Derek’s lips. 

“We really need to learn to stop making decisions for each other,” Stiles whispered, and Derek’s eyes flicked back and forth between Stiles’ honey gold ones, searching them for a doubt, a fear, a hesitation. He found none. 

Stiles closed the distance between them again, and as Derek’s eyes slipped shut, he opened his lips, making Stiles moan. Their hands tangled into each other’s hair, both scrambling to get closer, twist more fully into each other. Derek slid his gloved hand down Stiles’ jacket, liking the feel of muscled arms wrapped around him, but then the edge of the glove caught on one of Stiles’ buttons. He froze. 

Stiles lips were still dotting kisses along Derek’s neck when Derek pulled back harshly. 

“Der - what? What is it? I thought -”

“No, no, the glove it - got caught, it almost came off, I could have - Stiles, you shouldn’t be - we shouldn’t -”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Stiles said, grabbing Derek’s shoulders. Derek closed his eyes, completely overwhelmed. He had never had this many emotions running through him at once, and he felt like his insides were stretched too tight and his very being was overflowing. 

“Can I show you something?” 

Derek opened his eyes. Stiles hands were still on his shoulders, eyes open and full of expectation, a maddening smile on his lips. Derek nodded once. He trusted Stiles more than he had trusted anyone. 

Stiles plopped down on the floor, dragging Derek with him, and rooted through the bag he’d had strapped around his shoulder. He was never without the thing, and Derek was always amazed at how much it could contain. Even now, Stiles was pulling out some dried herbs, a candle, a rock, a small bowl, some thin frames lined with colored thread, some vials of liquid, and a book. He set the book to the side, focusing on the bowl. He crushed some of the herbs with his fingers, sprinkling the pieces into the bowl along with one of the vials of liquid. He set the three threaded frames in a triangle around the bowl. Snapping his fingers, he made a flame appear and grinned at Derek, who rolled his eyes. That was Stiles favorite trick, and he’s seen it a dozen times by now. Stiles took his flaming finger and dipped it into the candle, lighting it, and then into the bowl, setting the herbs and dark liquid on fire. Derek wrinkled his nose at the smell, but recognized it - Deaton always smelled like herbs and fire, and Stiles had more recently had the scent clinging to his clothing as well. 

“I do this every morning before coming to see you,” Stiles said, voice steady and quiet, face shimmering in the candle light. The room wasn’t dark, Derek liking having an open window and it being barely midday, but the flame seemed to dampen the rest of the light in the room. Stiles looked down at his hands, and then held them over the smoking bowl. He started speaking low, chanting three phrases over and over, and his hands began to glow a deep red. Derek stared. The glow spread up Stiles’ arms and over his body, across his face, making his eyes light up with fire. Then it was suddenly gone, and Stiles sat back, breathing a little harshly. 

“That was less dramatic than I was expecting,” Derek said, completely lying. 

Stiles scoffed. “Come on, man, I was just magically glowing red. You can’t tell me that wasn’t cool.” 

Derek huffed, trying not to smile. Stiles licked his thumb and snuffed out the candle, pushing the remainder of the herbs, the now magically empty bowl, and the book back in his bag. 

“So you - you’re - now you can -” Derek started, and Stiles grabbed his hand in answer, pulling off the glove. Derek waited as Stiles removed both gloves and let Derek’s hands fall back into his lap. 

“Now you can’t hurt me. I’ve practiced a hundred times, and you already know it works.” 

Derek knew it worked, he _knew,_ but something still held him back. It was forced habit, absolute base-level fear. He had been avoiding touch practically his whole life, and while part of him wanted to touch Stiles desperately, another part was screaming at him to get away. 

“Can I?” Stiles asked, and Derek slowly nodded. He still closed his eyes when Stiles grabbed his hands, but he didn’t flinch when he felt warm skin against his own. He felt himself sigh.

Stiles moved Derek’s hands until they were wrapped around the back of his neck, tickling the hair at the nape of Stiles’ neck. Stiles hummed happily as Derek stretched his bare fingers to scratch at the roots there, and Stiles leaned into him, the scent and warmth of him soothing and familiar. Derek ended up running his hands all through Stiles’ hair, over his neck and shoulders, down his back. Stiles sighed and made pleased noises as he went, leaning into Derek and nuzzling at his neck. Derek was surprised at how good it felt, and he gasped audibly when Stiles lightly bit him there. Stiles chuckled and Derek rolled his eyes, embarrassed by his own reaction. 

“I like that too,” Stiles said into his skin, and Derek took the hint and closed his teeth on the side of Stiles’ neck. Stiles moaned and Derek’s face got hot. Stiles tilted his head to catch Derek’s lips again, and the kiss was wetter and deeper than before - more overwhelming than anything Derek had ever felt. Stiles hands were in Derek’s hair and Derek’s hands were twisted into Stiles shirt and then Stiles was in his lap, rolling his long torso flush with Derek’s chest and Derek - he - couldn’t - 

“Stiles, Stiles, stop - stop -” He gasped, pulling his hands away and leaning back. Stiles stopped, staring down at him with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. He looked devastating, and Derek’s couldn’t breathe. 

“You okay?” Stiles asked, running light fingers down Derek’s face. Derek caught his hand and held it there. 

“Yeah, I’m just - it’s a lot.” 

“Sorry, sorry, I - I wasn’t thinking, I’ll just -” Stiles said, scrambling backwards, but Derek grabbed his shoulders and kept him in his lap.

“No, don’t - I don’t want you to leave, I just - just sit here? Talk to me?”

Stiles relaxed back into his arms, legs stretching out behind Derek as he settled. 

“Sure. Sounds perfect.”

\-------

When Stiles left that night, Daehler was at the table, not another soul in sight. Even Matt’s stupid face couldn’t bring Stiles’ spirits down. He had spent hours in Derek’s lap, wrapped up in his arms, cuddled against his chest. They hadn’t kissed again except for a soft peck before Stiles left, but Derek had traced almost reverently over the teeth marks on Stiles neck, so even without looking Stiles knew he was sporting a massive love bite. Derek had put the gloves on long before he needed to, but Stiles understood his paranoia and let him cover his hands up again. They had talked over their fight, over their feelings, and then slipped right back into their usual rhythm. They argued and laughed and Stiles accidentally discovered that Derek’s ribs were ticklish, something Derek himself didn’t know. 

He’d have to get his usual guarding schedule back, but since Laura had been the one the drag him to the castle that morning, he was sure that wouldn’t be a problem. Everything seemed to be going wonderfully. 

And it stayed that way - for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (aaaand then everything gets angsty again WHOOPS) 
> 
> come yell at me on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com) about this or STAR WARS BECAUSE I JSUT WATCHED IT AND I'M FREAKING OUT AAAAAA
> 
> more soon <3


	24. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey baby bro,” Laura said brightly [as she and Stiles approached], running up and ruffling Derek’s hair. He just growled and shoved her off playfully, and it struck Stiles that not too many weeks ago, Derek would have flinched away instead. 
> 
> “What are you doing? Harassing Stiles?”
> 
> “I would never,” Laura gasped dramatically. 
> 
> “Right. She would never. She’s never harassed or threatened me a day in her life,” Stiles said, laying his bag on the table. Laura glared at him. 
> 
> “‘Threatened’? Laura,” Derek said, scolding. 
> 
> “Don’t even, baby bro. I did what needed doing.”
> 
> “By threatening Stiles? What do you even need to threaten him about?”
> 
> “Things,” Laura said innocently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers -  
> I know I am laughably late and off schedule and who even knows but here we are.  
> Beta'd by my sib, alex, as usual.
> 
> Here, have some fluff and heated kisses. you've earned it.

Stiles started spending every single one of his shifts in Derek’s room, sometimes with the door closed behind them. For reasons. Derek had become increasingly comfortable with the kissing, and sometimes the touching. Boyd had had to knock on the door more than once to let them know that Stiles’ shift was over, the two losing time in each other’s thoughts and, more often than not, losing time in each other’s taste. Stiles emerged from the Prince’s chambers disheveled and hickied enough that his dad had started to raise eyebrows, and Stiles suspected that the Captain no longer believed “magic bruises from practicing too much” any longer. Though _technically,_ Stiles reasoned in his own head, they WERE practicing. Of sorts. And there WAS magic involved. Not always - sometimes Derek kept his gloves on and had finally started to let Stiles touch him un-enchanted, and had even reached out to Stiles with his gloved hands the last couple of times. His paranoia was warranted, of course, but the level of reassurance Derek needed to be close to Stiles slowly dwindled until it was almost non-existent. 

Derek was still hesitant to initiate physical contact, but Stiles was more than happy to make up for it. And Derek seemed to crave touch, now, and even asked Stiles on more than one occasion to get closer, press their bodies together as they sat side-by-side on the floor. The week after their first kiss, Derek had invited Stiles to sit on the bed with him, and Stiles had stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before gingerly sitting on the edge. Derek had huffed in impatience and grabbed Stiles’ arm, pulling him up next to Derek on the soft mattress and Stiles would never forget the absolute huge grin that had split Derek’s face. 

Derek had picked up the technique of kissing fairly quickly, much to Stiles’ enjoyment. Stiles had only kissed two people previous, but that was miles ahead of Derek’s physical experience. The two had graduated from gentle presses of lips to tastes of tongues to nips of teeth to wandering hands - and Stiles was loving every minute of it. Derek seemed to be enjoying it as well, if the hardness Stiles brushed up against occasionally was anything to go by, but Derek had backed off every time before Stiles was able to properly feel. Stiles wanted Derek to feel comfortable, and always let Derek set the speed - but he was immensely looking forward to the day that he could get his hands on Derek properly. 

Almost every day came with a moment when Stiles wanted to ask Derek if he wanted to go further. Earlier that week Stiles had been laid out on Derek’s bed, waiting while Derek and Lydia argued about something in the book series they were both obsessed with - and when Stiles had rolled over, he’d landed on something hard. A book was hidden under Derek’s pillow, with a dark cover and lots of dog-eared pages. Not even thinking about it, Stiles flipped to one of the bookmarked spots and almost choked when he realized he was right in the middle of a very explicit sex scene between two characters. Face burning, he snapped the book closed and hurriedly pushed it back beneath Derek’s pillow, but the knowledge was there. Derek read dirty books. And probably jerked off to them. Oh God, Derek had probably jerked off in bed EXACTLY WHERE STILES WAS SITTING. Stiles had to get off the bed just to get himself under control before Derek or Lydia noticed. They were sitting on the floor, Stiles being the only one allowed on the bed, and Stiles practically fell off on top of them, but then Scott had shown up to distract everybody, thank gods. 

On his way up to see Derek one day, Laura fell into step next to him as he walked through the great hall, almost like she was waiting for him. 

“Laura,” she said in greeting, nodding. 

“Stiles.”

“Can I help you?” He asked after she didn’t say anything. 

“I just wanted to thank you. And threaten you.”

“THREATEN me?!” Stiles asked, stopping in his tracks. Laura turned on him with a feral grin, walking forwards until Stiles was backed into a stone column. Stiles was suddenly and very literally scared for his life, because he knew Laura kept a dagger on her at all times and he had seen her use it, sparring in the yard. The royal family was all trained in combat and Laura could very much kill him without effort. 

“Stilinski. If you break my little brother’s heart, I will eviscerate you, string up your insides on the castle walls and dance on your grave. He has had a rough life and has never been in love before, so you better not fuck it up. I don’t expect perfection but damn near it, because Derek is special and wonderful and deserves the best, understood? Nod if you understand.”

Stiles nodded, even though he didn’t understand everything she had just said. Stiles understood every word separately, but what? Break Derek’s heart? Love? WHAT?

“Good. Now, Stiles,” Laura said, stepping backwards and relaxing her I’m-about-to-kill-you-stance, “I mean it when I say I think Derek deserves the best, and I hope you know how much faith I’m putting in you - that my family is putting in you. We - we can tell that Derek is better. You’ve opened up something in him, and he - he lets me hug him now. Stiles, I haven’t been allowed to touch my brother in more than 15 years, and you just - walked in and somehow made it happen. I don’t know how, but gods, thank you. Thank you for helping Derek come back to us. Seriously, I don’t know what we’d do without you now.”

Stiles was still leaning against the column, frozen in place by Laura’s words and the contradictions of tone within them. He didn’t feel like he deserved the things Laura was saying, and he was a little terrified of the things she had alluded to. Things like ‘The royal family approves of you dating the prince and if you hurt him you die.’ 

“Come on, dummy,” Laura said, grinning at Stiles’ face, which he was sure was a cross between awestruck and fearful. She grabbed his arm and pulled him down the corridor towards the stairs for the east wing. 

“You - I - what?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before. It’s freaky.”

“Laura!”

“Stiles!”

“You - I don’t - I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

Laura paused them in their walking again, resting a hand on Stiles arm. “Look. Derek doesn’t open up to people, but he has to you, and that MEANS something. A huge something. He’s talking and laughing and letting us again, for the first time since he was a little kid, and it’s amazing. And you started it. AND I think you’re a little bit in love with him, if not all the way, and I think Derek feels similarly for you - and I like it. I like it a lot and I want you two to be in love and happy and shit, and don’t think I haven’t seen the ‘working out’ bruises on his neck. Derek can’t lie to save his life, okay? I know you put those there and it makes him happy and that’s - that’s good, Stiles. I’m happy about it and I’m glad it was you.” 

Again, Stiles stood speechless. He was humbled beyond belief and, without realizing it, had feared Laura’s reaction if she ever found out about Stiles and Derek - and whatever they were. He held Laura - and the rest of the Hales - in high regard, and now that he thought about it, he had no idea what he would have done without their approval. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “But I don’t know if Derek - I don’t know.”

“Neither does he, yet. But I think he will.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. They found Derek out of his room, talking to Boyd. 

“This is what I’m talking about,” Laura whispered, and Stiles couldn’t stop the grin crossing his face. 

Derek noticed them then, and he smiled, but then his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he realized Laura was with Stiles. Rightly so. 

“Hey baby bro,” she said brightly, running up and ruffling Derek’s hair. He just growled and shoved her off playfully, and it struck Stiles that not too many weeks ago, Derek would have flinched away instead. 

“What are you doing? Harassing Stiles?”

“I would never,” Laura gasped dramatically. 

“Right. She would never. She’s never harassed or _threatened_ me a day in her life,” Stiles said, laying his bag on the table. “Bye Boyd! Say hello to the little woman for me!” 

Boyd rolled his eyes and left. Laura glared at him. 

“‘Threatened’? Laura,” Derek said, scolding. 

“Don’t even, baby bro. I did what needed doing.”

“By _threatening_ Stiles? What do you even need to threaten him about?”

“Things,” Laura said innocently. 

“Stiles, what did you do?” Derek asked, turning the angry eyebrows on him. 

“What?” Stiles asked, throwing his hands up. “Why is this my fault? LAURA is the one -”

“Because if there’s trouble, you’re usually involved, if not to blame.”

“Trouble? Me? Never! Plus, trouble is fun. You like it,” Stiles grinned at Derek, who glared. 

“I do not. Trouble is just - trouble. Never good.”

“You don’t want to get in trouble with me?” Stiles asked, making Derek blush lightly.

“I guess it - it depends on what kind of trouble,” Derek replied, and Stiles smiled wide.

“Oh my GOD, I take it all back, this flirting is gross and disturbing and I hate it all! I’m getting out of here!” Laura declared, spinning and retreating down the hallway. “Remind me to never come back up here again!”

“Good! You’re just distracting us from each other anyway!” Stiles yelled after her, and she fake gagged before turning the corner. Stiles looked back over at Derek, who was scuffing the floor with his boot shyly. It was cute as hell, and Stiles stepped forwards, nudging his own boot into Derek’s. Derek glances up at him through his eyelashes, and for some reason it knocked the breath out of Stiles. Maybe Laura had been more right than Stiles had known - he was SO gone on Derek. 

“My sister is gone, you can kiss me now. Anytime, in fact.”

Stiles laughed and then did as he had been requested, taking in the now-familiar taste of Derek, the softness of his lips and the warmth of his skin. Per usual, Stiles had done his morning enchantment, so they had about an hour of potential skin-on-skin time, so as to not waste any, Stiles tugged on Derek’s gloves. Still kissing, Derek smiled, but then pulled back and walked backwards towards his door. 

“Come on then,” he said, and Stiles liked the heated look in Derek’s eyes. 

\-------------------------------------

It had taken days, weeks for Derek to get comfortable touching Stiles - but it had finally reached a point where he knew he could, he didn’t second guess himself or Stiles, and it was far easier when other people touched him too. He regularly shared hugs with Laura, Cora, his mother - even Scott, Lydia and Erica occasionally. They had become friends over the course of the last months, coming to visit Stiles and eventually just coming to see Derek and hang out. Erica came by to see Boyd in the early hours of the morning before the bakery opened, and if Derek was awake he’d pop his head out to say hi. The first time he’d done it, he thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest, because it was literally the first social interaction that didn’t involve family that he had EVER initiated, let alone been in since he was 6. But Boyd had given him a nod and Erica had smiled wide, waving him out of the room. Derek had shuffled forward nervously and the conversation had been stilted, mostly driven by Erica, but all the same - it had HAPPENED, and Derek had started it, and it felt amazing. Derek hadn’t been able to keep it from Stiles, blurting it out the second they saw each other the next day, and the wide smile on Stiles’ face rivaled Derek’s own. 

Erica had become a close friend, alongside Lydia, and Boyd and he would talk almost every night. Scott was an easy, gentle person to get close to and Derek felt warmth thinking about all of them. He was often amazed at the world Stiles had brought him into, literally opening the door to relationships he never would have been able to have. His family was also impressed and pleased, both that Derek had actual, real friends - “Not just characters in books, baby bro,” - but also at the fact that they were allowed back in his life. He sometimes felt overwhelming guilt at the years he’d wasted trying to push them all away, and sometimes he still couldn’t answer the door, but he had more good days than bad days, now. He had lost so much time and spent so long being scared. Stiles had helped him realize that it didn’t have to be the way it had always been, and was pretty much the greatest thing that had ever happened to Derek. 

They hadn’t fought since that first day, well, not to that intensity. Sometimes Derek would pull away because he couldn’t handle the closeness, but sometimes he would pull away because he felt like he didn’t deserve any of it. He was a curse, and had KILLED people, and he didn’t deserve to be treated with such care and such gentle hands. 

Stiles would let Derek push him away the first few times, but after he figured it out, he’d just softly kiss Derek’s face and trace his eyebrows and run his long fingers through Derek’s hair, mumbling reassurances and whispered sweet nothings until Derek felt better. It happened less and less, the dark thoughts permeating his mind, but hadn’t disappeared. 

They hadn’t said they loved each other, not really - Derek didn’t count his proclamation on that first day - and Derek wanted to, all the time. But he was scared. It never felt right. He wanted to get it perfect, perfect for Stiles, who was just - 

He was constant motion, and made fun of Derek all the time, and talked too much and was a little bit of an asshole, but - 

He was also kind. And fiercely protective. And loyal to a fault. Loving and tender and so in tune with Derek’s needs Derek felt completely safe around him. And that hadn’t happened before. Derek still got anxiety when his own mother was in close proximity, though it wasn’t as intense as before. 

It helped, immensely, that Stiles did the enchantment every morning, and Derek knew that it worked and that he could literally not harm Stiles if he tried. The fact that Stiles was impervious to the curse, even for a short moment each day, made Derek feel free. It made him feel like a huge weight was lifted off his chest and he could finally breathe. 

He took advantage of the enchantment every single day. He was always sure to double check with Stiles, that he had done the spell before coming, but Stiles always did. He looked forward to the hour or so of magic just like Derek did. Derek had discovered that Stiles loved the back of his neck scratched, his hair played with, and the veins of his hands and arms traced. Derek loved doing all of it. Derek had also discovered that HE liked the hair around his ears scratched, along with his back, and that he had extremely ticklish feet. Stiles LOVED to take advantage of all of it. 

Laura knew more than she had let on, because she appeared at Stiles’ side while Derek was waiting for him one morning. She had cornered Derek a few days previous, asking all sorts of questions, which Derek tried to just ignore but probably did a terrible job of. He was never a good liar, and while Laura didn’t get any real answers out of him, what she DID learn apparently led her to threaten Stiles about - whatever they were together. Derek had meant to ask Stiles more thoroughly about it, but the thought quickly left his mind as Stiles swung the door to his bedroom closed behind him and pushed Derek up against the door, sinking him into a deep kiss. Derek moaned lightly at the sensation, loving the feel of Stiles’ mouth, of his hands on Derek’s shoulders, of his hips aligned with his. Both of them had also discovered that they shared a love for neck kisses and bites. Derek LOVED when Stiles bit his neck - it made his body heat up quicker than anything else. Kind of like right now. Stiles moved down from his mouth and was sucking a mark on Derek’s neck, far too high for his collar to hide, but Derek didn’t give a shit. It felt amazing. At the same time, Stiles took Derek’s hands and gently pressed them up against the door above Derek’s head, slipping his fingers underneath the edge of the fabric of Derek’s gloves. 

“Did - did you -” Derek managed to gasp. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Stiles muttered against his neck, nipping the spot again. 

“Okay, let me -” Derek started, but Stiles just pushed his fingers under the gloves and up Derek’s palms forcing the gloves to slide upwards and off as he intertwined their fingers. It almost felt as good as the biting on the neck - Derek’s hands were pretty sensitive and responsive after so many years hidden under fabric, and Stiles loved to touch them, driving Derek crazy. 

Derek’s hips jerked involuntarily, and he almost apologized until Stiles pushed back, and Derek could feel his length against his leg and he moaned as Stiles claimed his mouth once more. Stiles’ mouth was obscene, and Derek had put his hands on himself alone at night more than once thinking about it. 

Stiles was more intense this morning than usual, which wasn’t a problem, but made Derek wonder again what Laura had said to him. It must have been good. 

Really good. Derek couldn’t keep up with Stiles’ hands or lips and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Stiles,” He gasped.

Stiles kept kissing his neck and pushing him into the wall. 

“Stiles!” He said again, louder, and Stiles stopped, leaning back. Derek took in a gulp of air, and Stiles quirked his lips, looking sheepish. 

“Sorry, I - got excited to see you.” 

“I’m not exactly complaining,” Derek said, leaning his head back on the door. “Just couldn’t breathe.”

Stiles tried to look sorry, Derek was sure. He was just failing pretty miserably. 

“What did Laura say to you? Or threaten you about?” Derek was finally able to ask. He was even further curious when Stiles’ eyes widened and then he looked down, biting his lip. 

“Uh, nothing. It was just a joke.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles looked up at him again, and Derek raised his eyebrows, bringing his hands up around Stiles’ neck. 

“I won’t kiss you again unless you tell me,” Derek said. Stiles rolled his eyes at him, a smile breaking out on his face, and Derek felt a bloom of pride in his chest. He didn’t think himself overly funny - Stiles was definitely the funny one - but he still loved making Stiles smile. 

“Yeah right. But fine, she did the whole dating-my-sibling talk, the hurt-him-and-I’ll-kill-you thing.”

“She threatened to KILL you?”

Stiles winced. “More or less.” 

“Dating?” Derek asked, softer. Stiles creased his eyebrows together. 

“I mean - yeah? If that’s - what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, cool, yeah - cool. I’ll risk death to be in a relationship with you”

Derek huffed. “Don’t listen to Laura. I won’t let her do anything to you, even if - uh. Well.”

“Even if I hurt you?”

“I mean. I don’t think you will. I won’t - I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“You won’t. And I - I’ll really try not to. Derek, I...I love you.”

Derek felt Stiles stiffen in his arms, like he was just realizing what he had admitted. Derek stared into his eyes, unblinking, Stiles’ honey amber eyes wide with fear. 

Derek couldn’t help but laugh at the look - as if Stiles didn’t know. As if Derek could hide it. As if everyone who knew them didn’t know how insanely head-over-heels Derek was for Stiles. 

Stiles blinked, but then Derek swooped in to kiss him and Stiles went right along with him. When they pulled back from each other, Derek’s hands still bare around Stiles’ neck, Derek looked seriously into Stiles’ eyes. 

“You know I love you too, right?” 

Stiles smiled shyly. “I know.”

“Good,” Derek said, and kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TEH FLUFF. YEEEES.
> 
> Basically I was like threatening more angst but everyone was like WHAT NO THEY JUST GOT TOGETHER and so I wrote this - but the angst is still coming, okay, it's just been put off for a chapter. It's an integral part of the ending. I'm warning you. 
> 
> Also the next chapter accidentally got smutty, just a heads up. I LOVE YOU GUYS K BYE
> 
> [tumblr.](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com)


	25. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that - do you want that?” Derek asked softly, and Stiles peaked out from in between his fingers to find Derek’s face just as red as Stiles’ most surely was. 
> 
> “To see you naked?” Stiles asked, his voice muffled. 
> 
> “Yeah.”
> 
> “I mean. Yeah.”
> 
> They just stared at each other for a moment. Derek cleared his throat. 
> 
> “That’s good, because I, um, I maybe had been thinking. About - about that? Lately. I mean.”
> 
> “Really?” Stiles asked, dropping his hands and leaning forwards, unable to control himself. Derek blushed even harder and ducked his head, his turn to be embarrassed. “You’ve thought about - being naked?”
> 
> Derek huffed a laugh. “No, idiot, I’ve thought about YOU.”
> 
> “Me? Really? Me naked? You’ve thought about? Naked me?”
> 
> “Yes, shut up, gods,” Derek said, trying not to laugh again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised: SMUT! And not as promised, but still important: INTRIGUE! MAGIC! Bad guys! History! Actual plot line! WHAT IS HAPPENING
> 
> (Also, consider this your standard Kate warning. She's not actually a character, but is referenced and will eventually play a sort-of pivotal role.)
> 
> beta'd by alex and jeanice, my darlings. Enjoy!

Stiles was dreaming. Probably.

He was about 90% sure he was dreaming because everything seemed a little hazy, and Derek was in the dream - they were outside in some sort of forest. Scott was also there, and Lydia and Erica, and they were all wearing dozens of flowers in their hair. Derek was wearing a golden armor and had a full beard. This was definitely a dream. 

There was a huge stone wall that Derek was staring up at, black and smooth. Derek looked like he was mad at it. The thought made Stiles laugh. 

Then they were suddenly in a cave, a huge cave with a perfectly circular pool of clear water in the center. The ceiling of the cave had stars and swooping lines carved into it, all shimmering gold. Derek was staring into the water, breathing hard, and Stiles watched as he started to take off the golden armor. 

Yeah, this was DEFINITELY a dream. 

Derek stripped down to nothing, and Stiles felt maybe a little guilty about staring, but hey, this was HIS DREAM. And his subconscious was very generous. In like - all the ways. Stiles was so very grateful. 

Then Derek stepped into the water and there was light everywhere, and a voice that Stiles couldn’t understand filled his head. The water rose over Derek, swirling around him in the air, covering his body. Stiles yelled out and jerked forward, trying to get to him. Derek fell forwards into the pool, arms flailing. Stiles tried to get closer to help him, but his feet wouldn’t move. He pushed forward, but it was like he was frozen. Derek was still under the water. Stiles yelled for him again, louder, pushing as hard as he could, but he couldn’t move - and then Stiles was under the water too, still unable to move. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe - someone started calling his name, but he couldn’t breathe - he couldn’t - 

“STILES!” 

Stiles jerked awake, gasping huge lungfuls of air as he desperately swatted the air, still trying to get out of the water. Slowly he realized that he wasn’t underwater, he was on the floor on his bedroom, his dad’s arms wrapped around him, holding him to his chest. 

“Stiles, that’s it, okay, it’s okay, breathe, son. Breathe with me.” 

Stiles relaxed into his father’s arms, breathing in time with him. He was still a little freaked out and belatedly pissed that his subconscious had tricked him into thinking he was having a good kind of dream, rather than a drowning kind of dream. 

“You okay, son?” John asked after a few minutes of silence, Stiles’ heart rate returning to normal. 

“I think so,” Stiles said, and his dad slowly let him go, pushing back until he was sitting next to Stiles, hand still on Stiles’ shoulder. 

“Bad dream?”

“Apparently,” Stiles said, rather sullenly. John laughed. 

“It started out just fine, good, even, but then - I - I don’t think I’ve ever had a dream that vivid.”

John eyed him a little strangely. 

“What?”

“Nothing, kid.” John stood, stretching his arms, and Stiles felt bad for waking him. “I’m gonna get back to bed, you come tell me if you need anything.”

“Sure, dad. Thanks.”

John smiled down at him still sitting on the floor, and he ruffled Stiles’ hair. Stiles watched him as he left, then ended up staring at the door, replaying the dream. He should really try to get back to sleep, but he was too keyed up at the moment. 

He ended up reading over spell books Deaton had given him and practicing cleansing spells, casting them over his bed as a hope to ward off such crazy dreams in the future. The sun met him a few hours later, and he stretched, getting up and spreading out his materials to do the touch spell so he could go see Derek. 

\---

_[18 years previous]_

“Claudia - Claudia, please, honey - CLAUDIA, WAKE UP!”

John was shaking his wife, who was twitching in her sleep, almost violently, and mumbling incoherently. She always got like this when she was having visions, and usually he left her to it, but it had been well over an hour and he was _tired._

Suddenly she shot straight up in bed, gasping, and he sat up next to her. She was breathing hard, but didn’t seem upset. Sometimes the dreams were bad - terrifying, even - but most of them were just confusing. He’d never get used to Claudia suddenly knowing something would happen, in the middle of the day, seemingly randomly. Sometimes it wasn’t even anything important - the most trivial detail, like the dress someone would wear. Sometimes, as in the case of her first recognized vision with the snake, it would save someone’s life. 

She had taken to keeping a journal next to their bed, writing out what she could remember, and perusing the entries the next day. John honestly didn’t see the point as she couldn’t actually predict the future and it never made sense to anyone but her, but he didn’t question it. 

Still breathing hard, Claudia turned to him, smiling, but he saw tears in her eyes. Concerned, he leaned forwards and wiped them from her mole-speckled cheeks.

“Dia, honey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s - nothing’s wrong, I just. I saw something.”

John pulled lightly on her night shirt, and she followed him back down on to their adjacent pillows, wrapping their hands and legs together as they faced each other. 

“Tell me about it?” He asked, watching as two more tears tracked down her face when she closed her eyes. 

“Okay, I can’t remember all of it - but there was a boy, a man, more like - he looked almost like my father, but much younger.”

John felt his eyebrows raise. Claudia’s dad had died several years previous.

“He was ah, he was kissing another man. Tall, dark, very handsome. They were laughing, and it made me feel so happy, John. It was overwhelming. They were so in love,” she said, sighing. Opening her eyes again, she stared at John for a moment. “Do you - maybe it was Stiles?”

John smiled as he thought of their three-year-old son asleep in the next room. “Maybe it was.”

“Good,” she smiled and closed her eyes sleepily. “I’m glad he’s happy.”

John closed the distance between them and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Me too.”

\---

_[Present day]_

“Are you okay?” Derek asked him, not even two hours into the day. 

Stiles tried to respond in an affirmative, but a yawn took over his words. His dream keeping him up the night before was really catching up to him. 

“You seem really tired. Did you sleep okay?”

Derek was leaning against his bed on the floor, book in hand, Stiles mirroring him against the shelf, as usual. Their feet were touching in between them - Stiles had discovered that their legs were the perfect length to touch if they both stretched out, and Derek - though he was loathe to admit it - loved the physical contact, even something as simple as touching feet. 

Stiles had another book in his lap, a history book - one of his assignments from Deaton was to read up on the mage wars and on magic in general in order to learn about the great mages of the past and what they did. It was interesting, but still heavy reading - and Stiles was tired from his unexpectedly short night. 

“Yeah, I - I had a bad dream. And then I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Derek closed his book, face concerned. Stiles waved him off. 

“No, no, I’m fine, it was just - it was just the end that was bad. My dad woke me up. It’s fine.”

Derek didn’t look convinced. 

Stiles smiled at him. “Seriously, dude, I’m okay. It just freaked me out. Most of it was fine! You were there, actually.”

Derek leaned forwards, looking even more curious, and Stiles wanted to smack himself in the face. Great. Now Derek would know that Stiles had naked dreams about him. 

“And?” Derek prompted.

“And - nothing. You were there, and had a beard, and then - we were in this cave with a big, clear pool of water, and you - uh,” _Shit, don’t mention the naked, don’t mention the naked,_ “you got in the water, and then I think I fell in the water too, so I freaked out and my dad had to wake me up.”

“Why are you so red? You’re not telling me everything.”

Derek could read him better than the book in his lap. 

“What? Nothing. That’s it.”

“Stiles.”

“Derek.”

Derek slid the book of his lap and leaned forward to grab Stiles’ foot, pulling his leg until Stiles slid across the floor towards him. Stiles didn’t even try to fight it - Derek was a lot stronger than him, and it was hot, okay?

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What you’re not telling me.”

“Youwerenaked.”

_Great._

Derek’s face did his dumb, cute, confused scrunch, and he asked, “What? I was naked?”

“In the dream. You were. Uh.” Stiles covered his face with his hands, embarrassed beyond belief. 

“Is that - do you want that?” Derek asked softly, and Stiles peaked out from in between his fingers to find Derek’s face just as red as Stiles’ most surely was. 

“To see you naked?” Stiles asked, his voice muffled. 

“Yeah.”

“I mean. Yeah.”

They just stared at each other for a moment. Derek cleared his throat. 

“That’s good, because I, um, I maybe had been thinking. About - about that? Lately. I mean.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, dropping his hands and leaning forwards, unable to control himself. Derek blushed even harder and ducked his head, his turn to be embarrassed. “You’ve thought about - being naked?”

Derek huffed a laugh. “No, idiot, I’ve thought about YOU.”

“Me? Really? Me naked? You’ve thought about? Naked me?”

“Yes, shut up, gods,” Derek said, trying not to laugh again. His smile got caught against Stiles’ as Stiles leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t much of a kiss as they were both smiling into it, but it was sweet all the same. 

The kiss suddenly turned wetter and dirtier as Derek grabbed Stiles’ arms and pulled him closer, dragging him into Derek’s lap. Stiles was suddenly straddling Derek’s thighs, and Derek was biting Stiles’ neck, and then Stiles couldn’t think anymore. His body was tingling, his cock steadily growing harder in his pants. He rolled his hips unconsciously against Derek and then felt Derek’s own hardness against him. They both stopped moving, breathing heavily with scarcely an inch of space between their mouths. Stiles was staring into Derek’s gold-brown-green impossible eyes and Derek was staring back, heavy-lidded, biting his lip. Stiles rolled his hips again and watched as Derek’s eyelids fluttered. Stiles released a small groan, and Derek inhaled at the sound. Stiles didn’t hesitate to dip back in and suck Derek’s bottom lip lightly, making Derek shudder. 

“Derek, do you -”

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Derek said, voice rough. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask you,” Stiles laughed a little breathlessly against Derek’s mouth. 

“Don’t care, yes,” Derek said, biting his own lip. Stiles rolled his hips again and watched as Derek’s eyes fluttered again. 

“Just - okay, just tell me if you want to stop. Seriously, Derek, look at me,” Stiles said, stopping all motion and grabbing Derek’s chin. Derek’s eyes snapped open, and he stared at Stiles before nodding. 

“I will, I - please don’t stop,” Derek said, moving against him. 

“Okay, okay,” Stiles said, and he pressed into Derek, biting and kissing at his neck, moving lower and lower as he went. Derek gasped above him as Stiles began undoing the buttons on his shirt, exposing Derek’s chest. Stiles had seen Derek shirtless before on several very memorable occasions, but this - this was different. He could touch, and taste, and feel Derek respond beneath him.

Derek jerked when Stiles let his lips roll over one of Derek’s nipples, and when Stiles looked up, Derek was staring down at him in surprise, eyes wide. Stiles kept eye contact as he deliberately brushed against it again, and Derek sucked in a breath. 

“I don’t - I didn’t know that that was so - ah -”

“Sensitive?” Stiles asked, grinning, before sucking it into his mouth. Derek scrambled against the floor, breath coming uneven. Stiles moved to the other one, and then down further, scooting back on the floor until he was in between Derek’s legs on the floor, mouthing at the edge of Derek’s trousers. Derek’s gloved hands were pressed against the floor, palms flat, and Stiles wished for a moment that they were curled into his hair. 

Stiles stopped moving, looking up to see Derek with his eyes closed, head back against his bed, neck exposed. Stiles got caught staring when Derek looked down. 

“What is it?” Derek asked, shifting a little. He was hard in his pants, probably just as hard if not worse than Stiles, who was throbbing on the floor.

“You’re really pretty,” Stiles said, grinning when Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Can I - keep going?” Stiles asked, watching as Derek gulped and slowly nodded. 

“Please,” Derek said, and Stiles could get used to that. 

He unbuttoned Derek’s pants, anticipation and nerves make his hands shake slightly. Derek was holding his breath, and Stiles brushed against him with his hands, and Stiles paused again before pulling down Derek’s undergarment. 

“Derek, are you -”

“Stiles, gods, I might die if you don’t actually keep going,” Derek gritted out, and Stiles laughed again before pulling down the fabric. Derek’s cock was flushed and pretty, red and smooth. Derek sighed when Stiles took him in hand, and Stiles marveled at the silky feeling against his palm. 

“Derek, can I -” 

“Yes,” Derek breathed out, still looking away, as if the sight of Stiles on him was too much. Without questioning it again, Stiles leaned down and tasted the tip. Derek’s breath caught. Stiles sucked the head into his mouth and swirled his tongue around experimentally. He had never done this before - he wasn’t a virgin, no, he’d fooled around plenty with boy and girl alike - but he’s never gone down on someone with a dick before. It was bitter, salty, and Stiles was instantly addicted. He loved the sounds Derek was making too as Stiles moved around and sucked and pulled more of Derek into his mouth. Derek’s breathing had been ragged the whole time, but it was only a few minutes before Stiles felt Derek’s legs tremble beneath him. 

“Stiles, Stiles I - I think - _Stiles,_ ” Derek breathed, twitching, but Stiles didn’t pull away. He wanted to taste it. 

When Derek came, he tensed up, and his voice caught in his throat. Stiles loved the bitter that burst in his mouth, and kept licking and sucking until Derek was spent, breathing deep.

Stiles sat up, wiping his mouth and grinning at Derek, whose jaw was slack and his eyes half closed. 

“That was -” Derek started. 

“That was fun,” Stiles finished. Derek glanced down and must have been able to see that Stiles was still hard because his eyebrows came together, and he leaned forward. 

“Stiles, you -”

“I’m fine.”

Derek came towards him, looking down between Stiles’ legs. Stiles breath hitched this time, the predatory look in Derek’s eyes making his own cock twitch expectantly. 

“I want to help. Can I watch you - uh - and you? I can - kiss you? Will that help?”

“Uh, yes, that will probably - yes, sure,” Stiles said, fumbling with his own belt and shirt as Derek moved to settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder, Derek’s chin tucked against his neck, and mouth dangerously close to his ear. 

“Oh gods,” Stiles said, groaning when he took himself in hand, Derek’s breath against the hinge of his jaw. 

“I like how you look. I - I wish I could touch you, wish I could hold you down and - and put my mouth on you. Kiss you everywhere, especially on your - on your cock.”

Derek stumbling through dirty talk was probably Stiles’ new favorite thing in the entire world. It was endearingly cute and apparently a fucking huge turn on because Stiles was so very close already. 

“Derek, I’m - I’m close.”

“Good. I want - I want to see. I want to see you come. Please,” Derek whispered the last words directly into Stiles’ ear, lips tickling his skin, and that was it - Stiles was gone. 

He came silently, mouth open, and Derek sighed against him as he spilled over. 

They sat pressed against one another, breathing hard for a few minutes before Stiles could concentrate again. He groaned as he moved, stretching his shoulders and trying not to drip on his clothing. Derek moved, standing and grabbing a hand cloth from - somewhere. Stiles hadn’t exactly explored Derek’s room; he had hiding places everywhere. He handed the cloth over to Stiles with a soft smile, and Stiles wiped up and closed his pants again. 

“That was - um. I liked that,” Derek said, almost under his breath, as he sat on the floor across from Stiles again, right where they had started. Stiles straightened up against the shelf behind him, shaking out his arms nervously. 

“Yeah, I - uh. I’m glad you wanted to. Because I want to. Obviously. Like a lot.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. He picked up the book he had discarded earlier, and Stiles mirrored the action, picking up Deaton’s history book again. He wasn’t tired anymore. In fact, he felt quite wonderful. 

Derek slid his feet across the stone floor until they pressed against Stiles’ feet, and Stiles grinned. 

“You’re cute,” Stiles said. Derek didn’t respond, eyes on his book, but there was a pink tint to his cheeks. 

\---

Stiles somehow got sucked back into the book, even though it had started out boring as hell. The calming presence of Derek in the same room as him often helped him to concentrate. The book was historical, going through myths and legends and what may or may not be true. 

_The great Mage Wars had raged from 547 to around 765._ [For exact dates and details on discrepancies, please refer to page 27-34.] _The result had been devastating to the population of magic users, but had set the standard for what magic could be safely practiced and what could not - namely, soul magic - the most dangerous form of magic and energy known to man. If it didn’t kill the person that was casting it, it literally ripped a hole in the caster’s being, in the very fabric of magic_ [see chapter 17 for more specifics on the fabric of magic], _and created a feedback loop that was unending energy. Magic would flow freely, giving the mage extreme power, but would also continually drain them until they died or were sucked into the loop, disappearing from existence. Magic users were still perplexed by the mystery of how the process worked, but soul magic was far too dangerous to experiment with. Too many had already died in it’s pursuit._

_One of the most formidable mages in the Mage Wars that used soul magic with some success is known as Katherine, or the Silver Mage. Her origins are unknown, though some surmise that she came from the Argentine Woods - the people who lived there are both secretive and secluded. No official documentation has been found._

_The Silver Mage was powerful, much more so than the average caster, but was obsessed with improving her power and gaining more energy and more magic. Over the course of her life, she had collected several dozen Elder Charms in order to boost her power, but even that wasn’t enough. Elder charms are rare and hard to come by_ [see Chapter 8 for more about Elder Charms], _but Katherine collected over a dozen. She used the charms during the Mage Wars and actually gained ground in the battle by wielding them._

_Katherine’s eventual downfall was her lifelong obsession with gaining power - she was not satisfied with her power, even with the increase from the Elder Charms, so she turned to soul magic. While Katherine was able to handle and even control soul magic for much longer than most - her fame was well earned by her impressive abilities - like all mages, she eventually succumbed to the magic’s power and was consumed._

_The Silver Mage’s effect was not ended with her death, however. During Katherine’s life, she dabbled in the affairs of many others, using her unusual power to grant wishes and gain favors. Her legacy is shrouded in rumors (none of which can be confirmed, as Katherine also seemed to enjoy altering memories), and include curses, blessings, turning people into animals and plain objects into gold._

Stiles started, eyes widening as he read the sentence again. The book went on to describe the Silver Mage’s use of magic in battle, both with soul magic and Elder Charms, but didn’t mention any of the rumors of her actions again. He re-read the paragraph, leaning into the book like if he got closer, it might yield some answers. There was a bloom of excitement in his chest, a bloom of something akin to hope - because - BECAUSE - 

If Derek’s bloodline had been cursed by a MAGE - a living, breathing person, rather than an ambivalent god like the rumors said - then that meant that there was probably a cure, a counter-curse. A way to undo the magic that had made Derek’s life a living hell and the lives of generations before him. There could be a CURE. 

“Are you okay?”

Derek’s voice broke Stiles out of his thoughts, and Stiles glanced up, no doubt looking a little wild. 

“Yeah, yes, yes, I need to - uh, need to talk to Deaton about something in this - book. He’s having me read this and - “ Stiles made himself stop talking because he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure, so he wouldn’t say anything because raising Derek’s hopes and having them crushed would NOT be happening. Nope. So he shut up, smiled, and got back to reading. Not that he could concentrate very well. For the rest of the day, Stiles was jittery and anxious, and he KNEW Derek could tell. He frowned at Stiles several times, but Stiles just smiled at him and hoped Derek wouldn’t ask. He didn’t. 

When they said goodbye for the night, Derek again looked worried, but Stiles gave him such a goodnight kiss that Derek looked dazed by the end of it - Stiles was out of breath as well - and seemed to forget. 

Stiles stopped by the guard tower on the way to ask if someone could cover his shift the next day, writing out a quick note to Derek so he wouldn’t worry more than he already had. Then he went straight to Deaton.

Banging on the door to Deaton’s house, Stiles shifted back and forth on his feet nervously. It took a moment for Deaton to answer, and when he did, he looked slightly perturbed. Maybe. It was hard to tell, the older mage was so stone faced. 

“Stiles. It’s rather late for house calls.”

“What if the curse was laid out by a mage, instead of a god?”

Bless Deaton, he caught on immediately. “You mean a mortal curse? Well, then it would be reversible.”

“Exactly!” Stiles said, waving the book in Deaton’s face. Deaton sighed, stepped back, and inclined his head to allow Stiles entrance. Stiles smacked the book on the doorway while waving it above his head excitedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MWAHAHAHAHA. Oh yes. OH YES. 
> 
> This is probably one of my fav chapters so far, and I am SO excited about the next few. We're nearing the end, dear readers - thank you so much for sticking it out! I love to see your comments and guesses about what is coming next. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll post again soon(ish)!
> 
> You can also come talk to me on [the tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com), I love new friends.


	26. The Map

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles hands were shaking a little. This could mean - what this could mean - 
> 
> “Stiles, we must bring these findings to the queen. This could mean immense change for the royal family. And the potential isn’t concrete - this is just a theory.”
> 
> “But it could work,” Stiles repeated.
> 
> Deaton sighed and nodded, reluctantly. “It could work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been all over the place, my loves. New job, and then out of town, la la la. Thank you for sticking with me. 
> 
> A LOT happens in this chapter - it's about time I moved the plot line along, eh? And it maybe had a little more angst. Maybe.

Stiles was ankle deep in about a dozen dusty scrolls, half-read books, and maps laying open all over the room when there was a knock at the door. Deaton met his eye, lowering the book that he had been reading, impassive face somehow communicating his own surprise. Stiles honestly had no idea how long they’d been there, reading and discussing and moving from Deaton’s office to his SECRET UNDERGROUND LIBRARY, HOLY SHIT??? And then back to the office because Stiles couldn’t focus with all the magic books around him. 

Stiles stood, stretched because who knows how long he’d been sitting there, and went to the door. He blinked in the sunlight, because what? Sunshine? And then was met by Captain Stilinski’s infamous glare.

“What the hell, kid?” His dad growled at him, shoving past and coming into the room. Deaton stood and inclined his head.

“Captain.”

“Deaton. Do the two of you even know what time it is?” John asked, crossing his arms and looking between the two of them. Deaton didn’t react.

“Uh, well, I didn’t realize that the sun was up, so - morning?”

As if to punctuate his words, Stiles’ stomach growled loudly.

“Stiles, it is four in the afternoon. You didn’t come home last night, and when you sent someone else for your shift this morning, we all thought you were sick at home. I finally got rid of the damn representatives from the northern territory that I was meeting with and decided to check on you, only to find out that you weren’t at home. I’ve been looking for you for about two hours. Did it occur to either of you to let anyone know where you were?”

“Uhhhh,” Stiles said, rubbing his face and looking over at Deaton. 

“My apologies, Captain, I had also lost track of the time. We’ve been discussing and researching something of great importance.”

“Something important enough to go missing for hours on end? Have you eaten today?”

“No,” Stiles mumbled. “But dad, listen - I - I think I may have come across something yesterday, and I think maybe we’re on the way of figuring out the curse. The Hale curse. You know, with the -” he wiggled his hands, and his dad nodded. “It might be - well, reversible. A mage may have cast the spell, and that means we may be able to find a counter-spell and cure Derek. Uh, the Prince.”

John frowned and then opened his mouth. Closed it. “How?”

“That is what we have been researching, Captain. Stiles may be onto something, and we have both found evidence to support the theory. However, without solid evidence, I would prefer if the royal family not be notified.”

“Yeah, dad, don’t say anything, okay? I don’t want to get their hopes up and then not even find a solution.”

“Okay, kid, fine, I get it - but maybe take a break? Eat, for gods sakes.”

Stiles just hugged his dad in lieu of an answer. He was tired, now that he was thinking about it, and hungry - but he was also filled with hope. Overwhelming, boundless hope for what this could mean. They had found several more mentions of gold and turning things to gold in reference to the Silver Mage, nothing concrete - but lots of rabbit trails to follow. If they found a map or a spell or something, something REAL - they could - Derek would be able to -

“Come on, son, I’ll start on the stew you like. I was gonna make it anyway to help with you being sick. You can take a nap and get out of peeling vegetables.”

“You’re the best, dad.”

“I know.”

Stiles turned to Deaton, who was shuffling books around.

“I will continue, after some rest and food myself, and we will continue tomorrow, Stiles. We have made much progress already.”

“Sure, sure,” Stiles said, and his dad practically dragged him from the house. 

\------

“Derek, come on!” Laura yelled, banging on the door again. “YOU asked me to come up here today. Now you’re not gonna let me in?”

Derek glared at the door from the floor where he usually sat across from Stiles, who was not there that morning. The blank space just looked WRONG somehow, after so many days upon days of seeing big brown eyes and a smirking mouth across from him. 

He had asked Laura to come up today, but he had also expected Stiles to be there. Stiles featured in all of Derek’s plans these days. He was unexpectedly panicked when he got Sitles’ note that morning, even if Stiles had told him not to worry. That had almost made him more worried. Stiles had never read one of the books Derek’s had in his chest, and it had been Laura’s favorite book when they were young, so Derek had asked Laura if she wanted to come by and listen as Derek read Stiles the book. It had become one of their usual activities; Derek reading aloud to Stiles as Stiles worked on his weavings. Stiles had said he liked Derek’s voice, and Derek had loved watching Stiles’ reactions to his favorite stories. 

“Derek!” Laura pounded on the door again. “You promised me some quality Fern and the fairies time! I’ve been thinking about that book for days!”

Derek sighed and knocked his head against his bedframe. He didn’t want to deal with Laura now that Stiles had - disappeared. Especially right after they had - 

“Derek?” Laura asked, quietly now. 

_That_ made Derek get up and cross to the door. It was an almost painfully guilty reminder of all that time he’d spent locking Laura out, time he wished he could take back. 

He opened the door wide, frown deepening when he saw the obvious relief on his sister’s face. She flashed a smile and pushed past him into his room. He almost commented on her rude entrance and assumption, but decided to glare at Malaheni, sitting Stiles’ chair, instead. Danny shrunk a little into the seat, as was Derek’s intention, and then Derek turned back to Laura, closing the door. He didn’t not trust Danny, but he didn’t necessarily want him eavesdropping either. All the guards were terrible gossips. The whole damn castle had known the day he started coming out of his room, he’d never had more silent drop-bys than that first week. 

Laura hopped up on Derek’s bed, bouncing slightly, her smile drying up as she saw his frown. 

“Derek, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he responded gruffly. 

“Derek, come on. Don’t be a brat.”

“Don’t be a nag.”

“Tell me or I’ll beat it out of you,” Laura said, hopping off and stepping towards him, eyes glinting with mischief. Derek snorted. 

“You could try,” he said, crossing his arms. 

Laura just flicked her hair back, rolling her eyes. “Or you could just TELL ME.”

Derek looked down at his feet, leaning against the door. 

“What happened with Stiles?”

Derek looked up sharply, wondering how transparent he was being.

“Oh, don’t look to surprised, it’s obvious. He’s not here today, even though it’s not his day off, and the only thing you get weird about these days is him. You loooooove him, you wanna have his baaaabies -”

“Shut up,” Derek said, ears undoubtedly turning red. 

“So what happened?”

Derek huffed. It’s not like Laura would tell anyone, or make too much fun of him. He actually found himself really wanting to tell her - just to have someone to talk to about it. 

“I - we - well. Um. He and I - “

“Oh my GOD did you guys have SEX?” Laura yelled, and Derek ran over her and clapped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes went wide above his glove, and belatedly, Derek realized that it was probably the first time he’d initiated physical contact since they were children. He immediately let her go and stepped back, but she looked more surprised than mad. 

“I - yes. We did. I - it wasn’t - it wasn’t everything, you know, it was just - um -”

“Okay, okay, don’t kill yourself, I don’t need details. But holy gods, Derek, I can’t believe you finally did it! I didn’t think you’d ever g- uh, I mean, I didn’t - “

“You didn’t think I’d ever get that far with anyone, I know. Neither did I. But, uh, I did.”

“And? Was it good?”

Derek looked down again, feeling his face flush at the memory. “Yeah. it - it really was.” 

“Derek! That’s so amazing! I’m so - I’m so happy for you!” Laura said, wrapping him in a hug. Derek was slowly getting used to the hug thing, Laura hugged him often and so did Stiles, but the contact without warning was still a bit jarring. 

“Buuuuut -” she said, pulling away. “What went wrong?”

“I don’t know? I don’t think anything went wrong, exactly, but - he was reading, and then must have stumbled across something he liked or - I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me, but he got excited and weird and then left and then left a note with Boyd and didn’t show up this morning and didn’t say anything, and I don’t know why and what if I did something wrong? He seemed - he seemed to like it and was happy and normal and then he just left, I don’t know what happened and I’m - I’m so - “

“Whoa, whoa, baby bro, take a breath,” Laura said, suddenly in front of him, hands on his shoulders, rubbing back and forth in a soothing motion. “Breathe, Derek.”

Derek took a deep breath and realized, to his horror that tears were clouding his eyes. He wiped at them, embarrassed. 

“Okay. So. What I got from that was that you and Stiles did stuff and then he read something, got excited, and left without a word, yes?”

It sounded even worse coming from Laura. Derek nodded miserably. 

“Let’s look at this logically. Stiles cares about you a lot. You know that’s true, even you can’t deny it.”

Derek didn’t say anything, which was just as good as agreeing. 

“So I doubt that’s the problem. It’s whatever he read, Derek, not you. I don’t know what the hell would have made him freak out so much, but you know Stiles. He gets so focused on things he forgets anything else exists. Boyd has had to drag him out of here on multiple occasions. Think about it. It’s probably something to do with magic or Deaton or something - he’s been really excited about that lately. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

Something in Derek’s chest had loosened while Laura spoke, her words making more sense than the panicked chaos in his head. He stepped forwards and hugged Laura hard. She stiffened in his arms for a moment, and then hugged back just a fiercely. 

“Thanks,” he whispered. 

“Any time,” she said, running a hand up his back.

\----

“This could work,” Stiles said, staring at the map. 

“Indeed, Stiles. This could work,” Deaton replied from the other side of the table, staring down at the same. Stiles had eaten and taken a short nap, then slipped away from his dad and started in again, searching for clues with Deaton. 

They had found a bard’s poem outlining a great king being able to turn things to gold with a touch. That led them to ancient religious scrolls, and then to a prophet’s personal journals, and then around again to the bard. One of the lines in the poem had stuck in Stiles’ head, about a great stone cavern holding a pool of water. It was - it was just like in the dream, the vision, whatever it had been. He felt ridiculous chasing something he’d dreamed, but when he mentioned it to Deaton, the older mage had gotten a very serious look on his face. 

“You said this idea came from a dream?” He had asked when Stiles brought it up.

“Yeah, I know it’s crazy, but I -”

“It is not, in fact, crazy. It may have been a prophetic vision.”

Stiles had stopped, looking up. “Prophetic - what? Deaton, be serious.”

“I am hardly ever anything but serious, Stiles. I believe that your dream may not have been a dream at all, but a vision. Sometimes mages have futuristic dreams - your mother had such a skill.”

“My mother?” Stiles asked, remembering the strange look on his father’s face when he had told him about the dream. 

“Claudia had been struggling with the dreams for many years; they were inconsistent and unexpected, and she could not control them. But often, they held information that would help her in the future. She had several premonitions that saved people’s lives, including the queen’s.”

“You think - you think I have it? These premonitions?”

Deaton nodded. “It’s definitely a possibility, and the chance is even higher because you are the son of a seer.”

Stiles had liked the sound of this, so they went over every detail of the dream - vision - that Stiles could remember. Even down to the naked part. Deaton barely blinked, but Stiles had blushed like crazy. 

They had found more references to the cave, and the pool, and Katherine was tied to both. There was definitely a connection, and now they were staring at a map leading to the healing water, the Pool of Glass, as so the poem had foretold. 

Stiles hands were shaking a little. This could mean - what this could mean - 

“Stiles, we must bring these findings to the queen. This could mean immense change for the royal family. And the potential isn’t concrete - this is just a theory.”

“But it could work,” Stiles repeated.

Deaton sighed and nodded, reluctantly. “It could work.”

\-----

 

It turned out that the sun had gone down again by the time Stiles stumbled out of Deaton’s house, map and scrolls stuffed into his bag as he hurried toward the castle to tell Derek about what they’d found. Technically, Deaton had told Stiles to go to the queen first, but he couldn’t think of anything except telling Derek.

He was practically running through the stone halls and definitely ran over a couple servants on his way, but he couldn’t stop himself. This could change EVERYTHING. When he turned the corner, he found Boyd at the table and Erica sitting on his lap, both looking startled to see him. Erica jumped up quickly, and even Boy’d usually impassive face had lines of worry.

“Stiles, gods, what the hell is going on? Are you okay?” Erica asked, grabbing his shoulder as he paused for breath. 

“Yes, yes - are - shouldn’t you be sleeping? Don’t - bakers have to - be up really early?”

Erica straightened up, glancing at Boyd. “I got someone to cover for me in the morning. I wanted to spend the night with my honey,” she said, winking at Boyd, who just crossed his arms. 

“Sure, yeah - okay.”

“What’s going on? Why were you running? And why weren’t you here today? Derek wouldn’t tell me when I asked. He looked pissed.”

“Oh,” Stiles gulped, and glanced up at the door, still closed. There was no way Derek couldn’t hear them talking, unless he was asleep, which was unlikely. “I didn’t - I left him a note -” Stiles started, but trailed off, realizing what it may have seemed like to Derek. They had had SEX for the first time ever, godsdamnit, and then Stiles had run off with nary a word. Great.

“Shit, I’m - whatever. I have something that will make it up to him.”

“Is it your dick?”

“Erica,” Boyd growled. Stiles high-fived her. 

“Yes, and no. It’s a secret. Tell you later, promise,” Stiles said, crossing to the door and knocking on it.

_Tap-tap-tap._

The door opened almost immediately. Like Derek had been standing there, waiting. He looked almost nervous, and Stiles gave him a huge smile before kissing him full on the mouth in the open doorway.

“YES! Lydia will be so mad I got to see it first!” Erica said, watching them, and Derek pulled back, coughing and now looking embarrassed. Stiles couldn’t give a shit. Everything was going to be wonderful. 

“What has you so excited?” Derek asked. “And where were you today?”

“I’ll explain, I’ll explain, let me in!” Stiles said, and Derek stepped aside. Stiles closed the door behind him, ignoring Erica’s leer, and dumped the contents of his bag out on Derek’s bed. 

“Stiles, what - what is this stuff?”

“Maps. History texts, scrolls, and poems. Deaton and I have been researching all day and night. It’s a cure, a - a way - I can help you get rid of the golden touch, Derek.”

Derek’s hands stopped moving on the bed, eyes darting to Stiles, wide open in surprise. Stiles took Derek’s gloved hands in his own, pressing their hands together. 

“We found a way to get rid of the curse.”

 

\---

 

Derek was sitting on his bed, head in his hands, listening to Stiles’ story of how he and Deaton had discovered the map. He was shaking. Stiles was pacing back and forth, waving scroll after scroll, talking a mile and minute, but all Derek could hear was, “We found a way to get rid of the curse,” which then Stiles had followed up with, “it’s not a guarantee, but it could work.” Those two sentences kept circling and circling, and Derek was shaking. 

“Derek?”

Derek realized that Stiles was now kneeling in front of him and hadn’t been speaking for a moment. 

“Are you okay?”

Derek tried to breathe. He ran his hands through his hair, painfully aware of the gloves on his hands. 

“Are you - aren’t you excited? A little? I mean, I know it’s a lot to deal with and kinda overwhelming - but this could change everything! You could - you could take off your gloves! And,” Derek’s heart was pounding. “- and come out of the east tower. More than just out the door, you could live like a normal person! Or, at least, as normal as a prince can get. It’s gonna be -”

“No,” Derek said, softly, almost under his breath. 

Stiles stopped, but Derek still couldn’t look him in the face. 

“What?”

“I said no. No, Stiles. No. I don’t - I don’t want it.”

“You - what? What the fuck? Do you even know what I have in my hands right here? I have a way to REVERSE the -”

Derek looked up and looked Stiles straight in the eye. “Yes, get rid of the curse, I heard you, and I said no.”

Stiles flinched back as if he had physically been hit, and then scooted back against the floor until he was in his usual spot, leaning against Derek’s shelf across from the bed. 

“Derek...what?” Stiles asked, softer now, almost pleading. He looked lost. Derek tried to breathe. 

“I can’t - I can’t just leave this room. I can’t leave the castle! Are you - are you fucking KIDDING me? I can’t, Stiles, no. Especially for something that might not work anyway.” Derek was shaking still, the very thought of stepping out of this hideaway making it hard to breathe. To leave the castle? To go follow some - some magic map? To some cave in the forest with a supposed magical cure for his curse? A curse he DESERVED to have?

That thought was something he hadn’t been expecting, but let it wash over him anyway. Stiles had distracted him for some time now, distracted and made him forget about the curse. About the death he had caused. Derek had murdered three people before the age of seven, and he wasn’t about to leave his tower and put at risk countless others now. He couldn’t go. 

“Derek you - you have to try this,” Stiles said, voice soft like Derek just wasn’t realizing what he was saying. “The scrolls say that there’s this - healing water and if you submerge yourself in it -”

“I’m magically fixed? I’m a ‘real person?’” Derek could hear the venom in his own voice, couldn’t seem to stop it. There were too many emotions rioting in his body. 

“You’re - that’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Stiles said, sounding angry. “I meant that you could be free of this, this tower! You’re trapped in here, and I hate it, and I want you to be able to walk around and feel sunshine and - and -”

Derek stood abruptly, making Stiles cut off. “Why, would that make this easier? For you? Fucking around with the cursed prince isn’t NEARLY as good as it could be if he had use of his _hands_ ,” he spat out. Stiles flinched back, face hardening. 

“What the _fuck_ , Derek? That’s not - that’s not what this is about! This is about you! Helping you!”

“I’m doing just fine, Stiles, so you and your magic map can fuck off. It’s not like it would have worked anyway. And it shouldn’t work. This is - this is who I am.”

“This is who you _are,_ or this is what you think you deserve?” Stiles asked, cutting right to the meat of the problem as quickly if Derek had told him so. “Because that? That is such bullshit. Your martyr complex is seriously gonna stop you from doing this? Something that will _fix_ you?”

“I’m not fucking broken, Stiles! I’m fine! I was fine before you got here and messed up everything, making me do things I didn’t want to do and - and making me think you were happy! With _me_ , just - just - well. Apparently not.”

“This is not about me!” Stiles yelled. 

“No, it’s not, it’s about me, isn’t it?” Derek yelled back. “And _I_ said NO, so back the fuck away from me and don’t bother coming back tomorrow. Or ever. I don’t want to see your - your fucking face up here ever again. I’ll make sure the queen finds a replacement, someone who isn’t so godsdamn meddling in other people’s lives!”

Stiles stood, staring at Derek, face red and breathing hard, eyes open in surprise anger. Derek turned away from him, facing the wall. 

“Get out,” he said, voice menacing and soft. 

He didn’t turn around until the door opened and clicked shut. When he did turn, Stiles was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT WON'T LAST FOREVER I PROMISE THERE WILL BE HAPPINESS AGAIN ~~there will be more angst first but~~ THEN THERE WILL BE HAPPINESS. 
> 
> I will also explain what exactly Deaton and Stiles found and the curse and all that jazz, don't worry. 
> 
> You can yell at me on [tumblr,](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com) if you want. :)


	27. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles stared at her. 
> 
> Laura stepped closer to him, looking Stiles straight in the eye. 
> 
> “Do you love my brother?” She asked again. 
> 
> Stiles nodded. “Yes, I do. I - I love him, Laura, I do.”
> 
> “Good,” she said, stepping back and smiling at him. “Then you want him to be happy, and that’s all I need to know.”
> 
> Stiles gaped at her. 
> 
> “Go get him, you idiot. And be nice. And I hope to GOD your stupid magic works.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO MY LOVES! 
> 
> I know it's been far too long - but A LOT happens in this chapter, a lot, okay, and there's good stuff in there. Thank you for waiting for me, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also this is unedited because all my betas have abandoned me (not really, I'm being dramatic) so if you see any errors, feel free to let me know!

When he first broke down the door, Boyd thought that the prince was having a seizure. He’d seen Erica have one before - more than once, in fact, and his younger sister also had them. He’d never known the prince to have one, though. 

He’d only broken down the door in the first place at Erica’s insistence, not that it took a lot of convincing. Stiles had left the room looking angry and on the verge of tears, which had never happened as long as Boyd had seen - and he had seen Stiles come out of that room in several different stages of duress. Stiles also hadn’t addressed them as he left, and when Erica called out to him he didn’t turn around. 

“Is he okay?” She asked. Boyd shrugged. She turned to look at the door. He didn’t like the look in her eye. It was questioning, curious, calculating - 

“No,” he said, before she had the chance to suggest something. “You cannot get involved in - that.”

“Boyd, what if -”

And then they both paused at the crash coming from behind the door. There was a clatter, a rush of noise, and a thump like a body hitting the floor. 

Boyd lifted Erica off his lap, going to the door and listening for more. 

“Derek?” Erica called, knocking on the door. “Are you okay?”

There wasn’t an answer, which wasn’t unusual, but Boyd had a bad feeling in the center of his chest. 

“Derek? Boyd, you have to go in there. Something’s wrong.”

Body looked over at her, looking nervous, and he agreed without a second thought.

The door was sturdy, heavy and built well - for a prince. It took longer than Boyd had expected, and his shoulder was surely bruised, but that didn’t matter because Prince Derek was on the floor breathing shallowly and looked like he was dying. 

“Is he - is he having a seizure?” He asked Erica as they both kneeled on the floor near him. Erica’s hands were hovering over the prince’s shoulders, his body curled in on itself, his eyes unfocused and unseeing. 

Erica shook her head. “No, it’s - I think it’s a panic. His breathing is - we have to get his breathing under control.”

Boyd leaned back and helped Erica move Derek into a sitting position against the wall. The prince moved easily, breath sounding like sandpaper against wood. 

“Careful of his hands,” Boyd murmured, and Erica glanced at him before wrapping her hands carefully around Derek’s gloved ones, movements purposeful and slow. Derek didn’t seem to care, or even notice. 

“Derek, I’m going to count in for three and out for three, and I need you to try and match my breaths, okay? I know you can do it, just 1, 2, 3 - out, 2, 3. Easy as pie. I should know, I’m a baker,” Erica said, sitting directly in front of Derek and breathing exaggeratedly, lifting her shoulders in time with her counting. Boyd started breathing in tandem with her, not knowing what else to do. Erica counted for what seemed like forever, but slowly - slowly, Derek came back to them. 

“Count with me,” Erica had said at one point, and Boyd had started chanting with her, Derek’s voice rough and soft, joining them after a few seconds. 

Eventually, Derek leaned his head back against the wall and took a deep breath, breaking off the rhythm. He pulled his hands from Erica’s, like he was self-conscious about her touching him. Erica scooted a little further back, knowing Derek liked a lot of personal space. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, finally, and Boyd breathed out in relief. He was worried he would have to be the one to ask, and he really didn’t want to. Breaking silences wasn’t really something he did as a person, but he needed to know if the prince was alright. 

“I don’t think so,” Derek said, his voice breaking in the middle. Boyd had the unexpected urge to hug him, which - no.

“Is there - do you want to tell us about it?” Erica asked. Derek shook his head. He seemed utterly unsurprised by the attack, meaning he’d had one before, which made Boyd’s hugging urge even stronger. He needed to do something to distract himself. 

He stood up and grabbed the door that was hanging cock-eyes from the lower hinges. 

“Sorry about the door, I - I told him to break it down,” Erica said, watching him as he bent the upper hinge back into a semblance of functionality and stood the door back up, swinging it back and forth experimentally. 

“You’ll need a new pin to make it close right, but it should - be fine. My apologies.”

“Don’t worry about it, Boyd. Thank you for - thanks.”

Boyd bowed his head. Erica stood as well, looking down at Derek expectantly. 

“We’ll be - out here, if you need us, okay?”

Derek nodded. Erica sighed, but let Boyd pull her from the room. The door didn’t close perfectly, a corner of darkness showing up at the top, but there was nothing they could do to fix it this late at night. He’d have to find the blacksmith in the morning after his shift was over. If his shift ended that morning - by the looks of things, Stiles probably wasn’t coming back anytime soon. 

Erica climbed right back into his lap when he sat down, and he ran his hand up her back as she stared at the closed door. 

“What do you think happened?”

Boyd shrugged. 

“Well, you’re around them all the time, what could they possibly have fought about that - that was that bad? I’ve never…”

“Neither have I,” Boyd said. “I don’t know, baby, I only see the two of them for a few minutes at a time. They’ve never fought like that.”

“It makes me worry.”

“Me too,” he said, and pulled her close to him. They talked quietly through the night, Erica eventually dropping off to sleep on his shoulder. Stiles had had the presence of mind to ask Danny to cover for him, at least, and Boyd gave him a short, soft explanation when he rounded the corner. Danny had nodded seriously, glancing at the door. They had all come to care for the hermit prince in the last few months - and Boyd knew it was because Stiles had gotten him to come out of his shell. 

Boyd carried Erica down the hall, sunlight rising over the hills in the east, coming through the castle’s huge windows. It reflected off her hair and made her eyelashes glow, and his heart clenched at the thought of fighting with her to the point of desperation. He didn’t much care to be in the middle of other’s affairs, but he hoped that the prince and mage would work out whatever it was between them. They’d been far too happy for a disagreement to tear them apart. 

What a disagreement it must have been, though. Erica was right. It made him worry

 

\----

 

Derek was a fool. 

The argument rolled around and around in his head as he sat on the floor, exactly where Boyd and Erica had left him. He hadn’t even the strength to be embarrassed about how they found him - there was no harm they could do to him that he hadn’t already done to himself.

Erica had been holding his hands when he came to. It had - it hadn’t frightened him like it usually would have. That had surprised him. 

_”I don’t want to see your - your fucking face up here ever again.”_

Derek closed his eyes. That was the greatest lie he had ever told. He couldn’t believe that he had said that he didn’t want to see Stiles. He was so - so stupid. 

_“Derek you - you have to try this.”_

Stiles’ hope had flared to life and Derek had been afraid of it. He was - terrified.

 _“This is who you_ are, _or this is what you think you deserve?”_

Stiles hadn’t deserved any of it. Derek didn’t deserve Stiles. He was too good. And Derek had thrown him out like he was nothing. 

_”I don’t want to see your - your fucking face up here ever again.”_

Ever again. 

What the hell had he done?

He stayed there on the floor all night, unable to sleep.

 

\----------

 

Boyd had given Danny a short summary of the situation, but he was still worried and a little freaked out by the rolling silence coming from Derek’s room. Danny wasn’t exactly _friends_ with the prince, but the group of them did hang out a lot these days, drawn together by Stiles’ slightly demanding personality. 

The door was hanging off-kilter, a corner of dusty light shining out on the top right. Usually, Derek would come out and greet him, awkwardness slowly melting away as the weeks rolled by. It was - unsettling, to say the least, and he didn’t know what to do. 

Then Laura Hale rounded the corner, and Danny had NO idea what to do. 

“Hey, Danny - where’s Stiles?”

“Uh -”

“Is - what happened to the door?”

“Um.” 

Laura didn’t actually seem interested in any of his answers, thank gods, instead, approaching the door. 

“Derek?” She asked, pushing lightly on the door. It swung open on a creak, and Danny sighed a little when she disappeared inside. The eldest princess had always scared him a little bit, and thought he wouldn’t admit it to anyone ever - she was the only woman in the world he had ever had a crush on.

 

\----

It was dark in Derek’s room, darker than it should have been at this time of day. Laura had to take a second to adjust - usually her brother pulled the curtain back from the window and let the sunshine in. 

Today it was closed, and the room felt - dusty. Gray. Derek was sitting on the stone floor, head against the wall, face tilted up, not even acknowledging her. 

“Derek?” She asked. He didn’t move, and as she approached, she realized it was because he was asleep. 

“Derek,” she said again, louder, and he blinked awake, shaking his head slightly and wincing at the stretch of his neck. He looked around the room, seemingly confused for a moment, but when he focused back on her, there was a - blankness to his face that she hadn’t seen in weeks Months. It was like a punch to the gut and a sharp reminder of some of the worst days - before. Before Stiles. 

“Der?” She said again, this time sitting in front of him and reaching for his arm. He flinched away, which hadn’t happened in a while either, and now she was really worried. 

“What - what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Laura,” Derek said softly, but didn’t continue.

“Are you okay, Derek? Please - I - you’re kind of scaring me.”

“I -” Derek put his head in his hands. “Stiles. I really - I really fucked up. I think.”

“Oh, Der, I’m sure it -” she started to comfort, started to say how ridiculous that was, because - she knew how STiles felt about her brother, alright? There wasn’t anything that could change that. But the look on Derek’s face was so sure, so resigned that she decided that maybe this wasn’t the time for the battle. “Do you want to talk abou it?”

“No.”

“...do you want me to go?”

“No,” Derek said quickly, like he was scared she would leave anyway. “Just - just. Stay?”

Laura smiled at him, and then got up and walked over to his bed, pulling the trunk of books out from underneath it. Opening it, she rifled through before she found her favorite. 

“Alright, but you promised we’d read this the other day and we never got around to it, so. Deal with it.”

Derek didn’t smile, but he nodded slightly, and his face was less dismal than it had been when he woke up, so maybe it would be okay. 

“Okay,” Laura started, clearing her throat, and began to read. “Fern was small for her age, but quite determined to prove that size had nothing to do with the ability to climb trees. She was, in fact, able to get higher than even Jeremy, because she weighed far less than all the boys and most of the others…”

\-----

Stiles doesn't remember walking home - doesn’t remember how he got in the door or how he sat down at the table, dropping his things as he went. He doesn’t know how long it was before a hand came down on his shoulder and he looked up to find a very concerned father staring down at him. 

“Stiles? Everything okay, kid?”

Without prompting, Stiles eyes filled with tears and the captain dropped into the chair opposite him. 

“What’s going on, son?”

“Derek - he - I - I don’t know what to do, dad, I’m so - he -” Stiles could barely get the words out and even then, nothing in his head made any sense. 

“Whoa, Stiles, calm down. Breathe, son. I need you to breathe.”

Stiles willed himself to count, to breathe, to relax the grip he had on the table. 

“Okay. I’m going to make us some soup, and you’re going to eat, and then you’re going to tell me what happened, and then you’re going to go to bed. Because you look like shit, kid.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, it coming out a lot less biting than he had intended. His dad ruffled his hair and then stood, putting a strong hand on his shoulder again. 

“Just - sit here, okay. Don’t think. Just sit. I know that’s hard for you to do, but - for me, okay? Just sit there.”

Stiles nodded, sniffling, and laid his head on the table. His dad would take care of him. He always had. Even though Stiles was well into his adult years, sometimes - it was nice to have his dad take care of him. 

\--------

“Here,” John said, handing a leather-bound book over to his son. It was old, worn, and dusty - tucked away for years, practically forgotten. 

“What is this?” Stiles asked, hands brushing over the cover. 

“It belonged to Claudia. It’s her dream journal.”

Stiles looked up, confused. 

“Dream - what?”

“You told me about that dream you had? With the cave, and the water It reminded me - reminded me of how your mom used to describe her dreams. She had these -”

“Prophetic dreams, yeah, Deaton told me about them. I didn’t know - who wrote all of them down?”

“Used to wake me up in the middle of the damn night sometimes, turning on the light to write down whatever she’d just seen. Sometimes they made sense, sometimes, they didn’t. And most of them, she never got to see happen. I think you should read through it.”

They had talked for hours; Stiles explaining about the curse and the magic water, about Katherine the mage, about the dream again - and then about how Derek had reacted and demanded Stiles leave. John’s chest ached at how distraught Stiles was over this, how much pain was in his voice - it was obvious that the kid was in love. John had known that they were - romantically involved for a while now, it wasn’t like Stiles was subtle. And he came home with hickeys practically every day. 

This conflict, though - John didn’t see an easy way out of it. If Derek didn’t want the map or the healing water, Stiles couldn’t force it on him. But it would kill Stiles to stand by and watch Derek suffer while there was a solution to the curse. It was a doozy, to say the least. 

John had stood when Stiles had finished his story, clapping his shoulder for a brief moment before going into his bedroom to grab the book he had pulled out from under the bed earlier that day. Ever since Stiles had told him about the dream, John had been thinking about it. He felt like Stiles should read through it, see what his mother had saw and the power it had. 

Stiles reverently turned the journal over, studying it, before flipping to the first page. 

“The snake one?”

The captain huffed. “That’s the one that saved Talia - the queen’s life.”

“She told me about that one..” Stiles mumbled, reading down the page, and John raised an eyebrow. 

“I didn’t realize you were on such a personal level with the queen.”

Stiles looked guilty for about half a second. “I’m her son’s guard, we talk,” he said, waving a hand before turning the page and reading on. 

“I’ll leave you to it. I love you kid.” John said, brushing a rare kiss to his son’s forehead. Stiles looked up, surprised for a second, but then smiled and said, “I love you too.” His head was back in the book within seconds. 

John knew that there was a page almost at the end that held the dream Claudia had had about Stiles as an adult - and, with any luck, Stiles would recognize the other man in the dream as Derek. John had read that passage once or twice, as was firmly convinced that Claudia had foreseen her son and the prince being happy together. John just hoped Stiles still believed they could be. 

 

\------

It was much later when Stiles appeared at John’s bedroom door, so much later that John had fallen asleep, book on his chest, lamp still burning. It had been ages since Stiles had climbed into his father’s bed - but this occasion called for it. 

The captain’s eyes flickered open when Stiles grabbed the book, closing it and setting it on the table next to his bed. 

“You lost my place,” he mumbled, and Stiles rolled his eyes. He stood, a little awkwardly, next to the bed, until John raised his eyebrows and patted the covers on the other side. Stiles practically scrambled across the room and dove underneath the layers of blankets. Stiles knew his father was laughing at him, but he didn’t care. Being in this bed - the Parent’s Bed - made him feel like a kid again. 

Being in his father’s bed also reminded him of his mom, and he was struck, suddenly, with a flash of longing for her. Settling down on the pillow, Stiles turned to look at John. 

“Dad?” He asked, voice small. John opened his eyes, focusing on Stiles. 

“What, kid?”

“I miss mom.”

Stiles watched as his father’s face soften and crack into a misty smile. 

“Yeah. Me too, kid. Me too.” 

They fell asleep like that, facing one another.

 

In the morning, Stiles made a decision. 

\------

Laura stayed with Derek all day, finishing the book and telling him stories, pulling open the curtain to let the sun in after a while. Derek didn’t say anything, but it certainly made the look seem warmer and the world not so dismal. Danny had the kitchen bring up extra portions and the two of them ate lunch and dinner in comfortable silence.

Eventually there was a knock at the door, and Boyd was standing there when Laura got up to open it. 

“Boyd! What are you doing here? It’s -”

“Time for my shift, your highness.”

“Well. Shit,” she said. “I should probably go pretend to be a princess again.” She turned to Derek, who stood from where he’d been sitting on the bed. 

“You gonna be okay, little bro?” She asked.

He just looked down at the floor and shrugged. Laura couldn’t help herself - she engulfed him in a huge hug, and had to will herself not to cry when he hugged back just as hard. 

“I love you, Der.”

She couldn’t QUITE make it out, but she was sure he said “I love you,” back. Which was possibly the greatest thing she’d ever heard in her entire life.

Laura gave one last wave as she left the room, smiling at Danny, who looked properly terrified, and made her way down the hall. Coming down the stairs into the Great Hall, she ran into Stiles - almost quite literally. He wasn’t looking where he was going and was mumbling under his breath, two books clutched in his hands. 

“Laura! Hello, sorry, I didn’t - I’m distracted,” Stiles said, tucking the books under his arm and rubbing a hand through his already-chaotic hair. 

“Have a lot on your mind?” She asked.

He glared at her suspiciously. “Maybe. Where are you coming from? Are you - did you see Derek?”

“Maybe.”

“Is he - how is he?”

Laura squinted at Stiles, trying to size up his actual intention. He seemed - well, he seemed distraught. Nervous. His nails were bitten down, eyes red, dark circles under them. This hair was a mess, like he’d been pulling at it. He kept fiddling with the hem of his jacket, shifting back and forth. 

“He’s been better,” she finally said. “He knows he fucked up, but he’s scared, Stiles, and I don’t blame him. What you’ve found, what you’re asking -”

“He told you?”

“Yes,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It took forever to get it out of him, but yes. I’m having trouble believing it myself. It’s -”

“Crazy, I know. It sounds insane. It sounds - like it’s not real. But it is, I - I can feel it. I’ve seen it. It’s real.”

“What do you mean, you’ve seen it?” Laura asked him, crossing her arms in front of her.

Stiles ran a hand over his face. “I - okay. I saw it in a vision. And in this journal -”

“Wait. Stop. Okay, I don’t even - I don’t want to know. This all sounds crazy to me, and I don’t want to know. Right now, at least, I’m exhausted. I will demand details later. But! I DO want to know one thing now. Do you love him?”

Stiles stared at her. 

Laura stepped closer to him, looking Stiles straight in the eye. 

“Do you love my brother?” She asked again. 

Stiles nodded. “Yes, I do. I - I love him, Laura, I do.”

“Good,” she said, stepping back and smiling at him. “Then you want him to be happy, and that’s all I need to know.”

Stiles gaped at her. 

“Go get him, you idiot. And be nice. And I hope to GOD your stupid magic works.”

Stiles didn’t even answer before he was taking off towards Derek once more. Laura grinned to herself, whistling out the hall. 

 

\-----

 

_Tap-tap-tap._

The knock was barely there, so soft Derek thought he was dreaming it. 

_Tap-tap-tap._

There it was again.

Derek leapt off his bed, tearing across the room and throwing open the door. Stiles stood at the the threshold, eye wide and looking nervous. “Stiles,” Derek heard himself say, and Stiles opened his mouth as if to respond, but didn’t get anything out before Derek threw himself forward, dragging Stiles into a tight embrace, gloved hands digging into the fabric of Stiles’ shirt. Stiles was frozen for a moment before grabbing onto Derek just as hard, hand coming up to grasp tightly at Derek’s neck as Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck, inhaling the familiar scent and feeling his bones finally settle into his body. 

“Stiles,” Derek said again, and was surprised to hear the thickness of his own voice, the tears unbidden forming in his eyes. “Stiles, I’m so sorry, I didn’t - I didn’t mean -”

“Shh, baby, I know. It’s okay.”

“I was scared you weren’t - you wouldn’t - please don’t leave again,” Derek said, gripping impossibly harder. 

“I won’t, I promise.”

Stiles eventually got Derek to pull away, which was harder than Derek ever thought it would be, and ushered him into his own room, Boyd surreptitiously focused on the book he was reading and completely ignoring them, or trying to. Derek really liked Boyd. 

Stiles climbed right onto the bed with Derek, never fully letting go of him, and maybe this whole affair had been just as hard for Stiles as it had been for Derek. Derek had been fully convinced Stiles wouldn’t come back, that he had totally fucked everything up - but Stiles was in front of him, perfect and warm and looking at him just as intensely as Derek felt. 

Derek had never felt so vulnerable and so, so sure about something before. 

“Stiles, I -”

“I’m sorry.”

Derek started, confused. 

“What?”

Stiles sighed and took both Derek’s hand. “Look. We’ll get to you and how this was a whole, massive, fuck up and miscommunication. Don’t worry, we’ll get to that. But! Firstly, I’m sorry. I - threw a lot at you, out of nowhere, and I didn’t even think about how hard it would be. I - I don’t know what you’re going through. I don’t know what it’s like, I was just- I got excited. I got way too excited and I care about you so much and I just want you to be happy and -”

“Stiles,” Derek said, stopping the torrent of words. Stiles fell silent, staring down at their joined hands. 

“I - I’m not good at this, but it - it was my fault. I’m sorry. Stiles, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean - I didn’t mean it, I love you. I want you here all the time. And I can’t believe - I can’t believe you did all that work for me, all that research and - I got scared. I got so fucking scared. I’ve never - I can’t - I can’t just -” Derek stopped, tripping over his words. “It’s so much to think about.”

“I know,” Stiles said, his grip tightening. “I know it’s a lot, and we can talk about it more and - decide what to do, you don’t have to, of course, but - Derek. Derek, this could change everything.”

“I don’t think I could leave even if the - the curse was gone. I’ve never - how am I supposed to be a prince after all this? How am I supposed to be a person?”

“You’re already a person, Derek. You’ll just - have to learn. You won’t be alone. You won’t be alone ever again,” Stiles said, taking a hand away from Derek’s to trace his cheekbone with his hand. Derek leaned into the touch, closing his eyes to hide the tears welling up inside them. 

“I love you too,” Stiles said, his breath ghosting over Derek’s lips. “I was so scared - I missed you so much. Derek, I -” Stiles stopped his own words by pressing his lips to Derek’s, and Derek inhaled sharply, leaning into the kiss, desperate for Stiles. He had thought this lost forever, but Stiles freely gave his love back to him. Derek felt unfairly blessed to have this, this boy that loved him. Derek did not deserve him in the least. 

“Stiles,” Derek gasped as Stiles moved his mouth to Derek’s neck, nipping in his favorite spot. Stiles pushed against Derek until Derek was on his back, Stiles atop him, kissing into his neck and threading his hands through Derek’s hair. Derek gripped his gloved hands to Stiles back, clasping the fabric and pulling Stiles impossibly closer. 

The kiss was suddenly heated, something swelling up in Derek’s chest and the feeling of Stiles above him was overwhelming. Stiles moaned as Derek kissed along his jawline, reveling in the sharp angle and the prickle of stubble on his lips. He realized, almost shocked, that Stiles was hard. 

“That was fast,” he heard himself say, and Stiles snorted. 

“Can you blame me?” Stiles asked, leaning back to meet Derek’s eyes. “I’m on top of you, you’re kissing my neck, you’re hotter than the sun AND I’m in love with you. It’s not like -” Stiles cut himself off with a gasp as Derek ground upwards.

“You ass,” Stiles laughed, and Derek kissed him again. He felt like he was flying. He felt free. 

Derek got lost in the motion, the swell of Stiles against him, the sweet friction of his body, the taste of lips he thought he’d never taste again. Stiles’ hands ended up under Derek’s shirt in no time, his large hands running over Derek’s abs and chest, making Derek shudder. 

“Can I -”

“Yeah,” Derek gasped, and then his shirt was being pulled over his head. Stiles ran his mouth across Derek’s chest, sucking lightly on his nipples and swirling around his belly button. Derek’s back arched under the onslaught. Stiles mouthed at Derek’s hard cock, still tucked into his pants. Derek whined and shifted, and Stiles laughed, coming back up to kiss him on the mouth. Derek, not to be outdone, squeezed Stiles’ erection, earning a surprised gasp. Derek grinned into Stiles’ neck and wished he could feel better through the fabric of his gloves. To be able to put his hands on Stiles -

He suddenly stopped, sobering. He needed to focus, pay attention, because he was still a very real danger to Stiles. He could - he could - 

“Derek?” Stiles asked. “You - are you okay?”

He pulled away enough to look Derek in the eye, and Derek looked back, pulling his hands up and tucking them under his own arms. 

“I’m scared of hurting you,” he said, voice small. 

Stiles’ expression turned incredibly fond, and he backed up a little more. 

“Do you want me to do the spell?”

“Please,” Derek said. 

“Or I could always tie you up,” Stiles said, mischievously, and Derek felt a dart of heat go through him, but Stiles was already climbing off the bed to retrieve his bag. Derek just glared at him, half-heartedly, making Stiles laugh again. It was a glorious sound. 

He watched as Stiles set everything up, mesmerized as always by the grace and power Stiles exuded while using magic. The chant was soothing and the heaviness in the air was comforting - a familiar presence. 

As soon as Stiles was done, he jumped back on the bed and claimed Derek’s mouth again, pinning Derek’s hands on either side of his head and slowly sliding the gloves off, inch by inch, and Derek’s nerve endings were on fire, his body bucking upwards as Stiles teased and ground into him. 

“Stiles,” Derek gasped as Stiles intertwined their fingers while sucking a mark into Derek’s neck. 

“Yeah, baby?” Stiles answered, whispering directly into Derek’s ear. Derek groaned. 

“Touch yourself,” Stiles told him. “Show me what you like.”

Derek slid his pants down and wrapped a hand around himself immediately, hissing from the relief of touching himself. He was hard as a rock. 

Stiles’ eyes were huge, staring down at Derek’s cock, slipping through his fingers. “Yeah, gods, just like that,” he said, pulling his own cock out and pulling on it. Derek lifted his hips up to meet Stiles’, their hands brushing together and making both groan. Derek used his other hand to pull Stiles down, closer to him, and he took both of them into one hand. Stiles inhaled sharply, breath loud in Derek’s ear. 

“Gods,” he said, and Derek said “Yeah, yeah Stiles, - Stiles - please -”

And Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek’s hand and that was it - Derek’s vision whited out and his body fizzled out of existence. Stiles was seconds after him, whispering out something that sounded like Derek’s name as he came. 

They lay there for minutes - years - before either could move. Stiles was the first to shift, lifting his head to look at Derek and lazily plant a kiss on his slack mouth. 

“Hi,” Stiles said softly, still leaning his weight on Derek. Derek liked the feeling of it, grounding him, and LOVED the feeling of Stiles’ smooth skin under his bare hand and he rubbed up and down beneath Stiles’ shirt. 

“Hi,” Derek replied, smiling. Stiles kissed him again, a sweet thing, making Derek’s heart stutter embarrassingly. 

“I’ll get something to clean up,” Stiles said as he lifted himself up and stood, stretching like a cat. Derek watched as he grabbed a cloth from Derek’s dresser and wiped up Derek’s chest and stomach, tossing the cloth on the floor and climbing back onto the bed. 

“Will you stay?” Derek found himself asking. Stiles looked at him, surprised, but then nodded, smiling shyly. 

“I’d really like that,” Stiles said, leaning forward and kissing Derek’s forehead. “Plus, we have lots of things to talk about - and I found something else out, so - well. Okay, I’m not gonna start now or I’ll never stop.” Stiles kissed him on the lips again, and Derek loved it - it was like Stiles couldn’t get enough of him, which is exactly how Derek felt. 

Stiles laid down next to him and wrapped his arms around Derek, spooning him from behind, and Derek was suddenly hit with how exhausted he was. Blindly, he reached for his gloves, sliding them on as a precaution, since Stiles’ magic would fade during the night. His eyelids drooped shut and Stiles was snuffled into the back of his neck, and Derek was sure he’d never been happier. Stiles reached for the lamp and turned it off, the darkness falling over them like a shadow. 

“I love you,” Derek whispered into the pillow, and felt Stiles’ lips curve against his skin. 

“I love you too,” came the reply, and then Derek dropped off to sleep, dead to the world, safe in the arms of the boy that loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELL YES. Sexy times and love and fluff.
> 
> But you're not done with the angst yet. Mwhahaa. Stay tuned for more pain..and more love! There will be a happy ending, I assure you!
> 
> Come visit me [here](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com) or leave a comment - I do love hearing from you!
> 
> I decided not to change the rating to Explicit because - I don't feel like it is? At least not yet? But if you think I should change it just let me know.


	28. The Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is it?” Talia called, someone knocking at her door incessantly.
> 
> The door swung open to reveal Parrish, her personal guard, mouth gaping. Talia looked at him expectantly. 
> 
> “Yes?”
> 
> “Your majesty - you - you - ” Parrish’s hands flapped around without direction. 
> 
> “Spit it out, man,” Talia said, straightening up. 
> 
> Then someone came out from behind Parrish and Talia’s breath stuttered in her chest. 
> 
> “Richard?”
> 
> Talia’s voice broke, and the man before her spoke. “Mom,” Derek said, stepping forward, and Talia had to brace herself on the desk. His hair was combed back, beard trimmed short on his cheeks, dressed in saturated blues that brought out his eyes. 
> 
> “Derek?” Talia moved towards her son, not really believing that he was in her study. He was out of his room - out of that hall he’d trapped himself in. “What - why - is everything alright?”
> 
> “No,” Derek said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You remember that angst I've been warning you about?? Well. PREPARE YOURSELVES. 
> 
> This is not beta'd, and this is - a lot. I'm sorry-not-sorry. Enjoy (or don't.)

Derek woke up slowly, warm and sated, more at peace than he’d felt in days. He blinked, stretching slightly and smiling as he felt the warmth of the body next to him. Stiles snuffled in his sleep, his head resting on Derek’s chest, tucked underneath Derek’s chin. Stiles’ hair tickled his nose, and he felt his nose twitch as he shifted, hands sliding up Stiles back, and he reveled in the feeling of Stiles’ smooth skin under his palms. 

Stiles smacked his lips and then made a noise - almost like he was in pain. 

“You okay?” Derek asked sleepily, eyebrows coming together as he glanced down at Stiles, who was lifting his head. Derek woke up more as he registered the look of panic on Stiles’ face. 

“Stiles? What -”

“Derek,” Stiles gasped, and his face scrunched up. “Derek, your - your hands, Derek. Your hands,” Stiles choked out. “I’m - Derek, oh my gods, I’m -”

Derek scrambled up, taking his hands off Stiles as if Stiles’ skin was burning. “Oh no, oh fuck, fuck, gods, Stiles, no, no, no, no -” He felt like his lungs were closing up as he realized what was happening. What he’d done. 

Derek almost fell off the bed trying to distance himself from Stiles and ended up with his back against the door, barely breathing. He registered, somewhere, that Stiles was speaking, but it was too low to hear. It sounded like a chant and suddenly the room smelled like magic. 

“Stiles?” Derek asked, his voice cracking. “Stiles, pl- please,” he said, feeling on the edge of tears. 

“Derek, baby, come - come here.”

Derek slowly got to his feet, sure that he was just imagining the voice and terrified he would find a golden shape in his covers, but - Stiles looked normal, from what he could see. His face was twisted in concentration, and he was breathing harshly, but he was moving. He was alive. Derek came closer, hands clenched tightly behind his back. 

“I’m sorry, I - I didn’t -”

“It’s okay, Derek - I - “

“You - how are you still - how come you - are you okay?”

Stiles looked up at him regretfully. “No, Derek. I’m - I’m not okay. I can’t stop it. It just slowed it down.”

Derek’s eyes darted around Stiles’ face and chest, and then saw it - a sliver of gold curling around Stiles’ rib cage, coming from his back - where Derek had first touched him. Derek closed his eyes, the panic making his chest tight and head spin. 

“Derek, please - don’t - don’t do that.” Derek flinched away as he felt Stiles’ hand tentatively grab his shirt. 

“No! No, don’t - don’t touch me, I - Stiles I can’t -”

“Derek. You can’t - you can’t make it any worse.”

Derek choked on a sob, loud and unexpected. His eyes were filling and he was shaking and his very world was ending. He couldn’t breathe. 

“Derek, I don’t - I don’t have a lot of time. Please, come here?”

Derek let himself be moved by Stiles, eyes still shut and breath still stuttering in his chest, sitting back down next to Stiles and trying desperately not to lose it. 

He ended up with Stiles’ head in his lap, Derek’s fingers running through his soft hair, errant tears still falling as he stared down at yet another person he had killed with his curse. This time, though - this time felt worse than all the others.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Stiles, I’m - I didn’t - I’m sorry, Stiles. I - I -” Derek was having trouble breathing. He had done the unthinkable and there was no way to fix it. 

“Derek, baby, breathe, okay?” 

Derek took a deep breath, leaning into Stiles’ touch. 

“I need you to - I need you to promise me something. Because I won’t - I won’t be able to, now.” Stiles sounded like he was having trouble talking. 

“Anything, Stiles, anything.”

“You have to - you have to follow the map, Derek. You have the find the cure. You deserve more than this, Derek, you deserve - you -”

“Shh, Stiles, please, don’t - you don’t have to do this. I - this is all my fault again.”

“You deserve to be happy, Derek,” Stiles said, sadly smiling in the midst of pain. 

“I was,” Derek choked out, pulling Stiles closer to him. “I was happy. YOU make me happy, Stiles.” 

“You - you make me happy too, Derek. You make me so - so -”

“Shh, Stiles, please, don’t - don’t force yourself.” Derek said, pulling him closer. He was heavy, now, and Derek could feel Stiles’ entire back turned to gold, cool and hard to the touch. He could see the gold tendrils creeping up Stiles’ arms and neck, the color licking at Stiles’ jawline and tarnishing the perfect cream of his skin. His breathing was labored and uneven. 

“Derek - you - you have to -”

“Stiles, please, don’t -”

“No! Look at me!” Stiles said, voice wavering. He put his hands on either side of Derek’s face, cradling his jaw gently. His hands were cold. Derek pressed a kiss to one of Stiles’ thumbs, tears spilling slowly down his face. “You have to promise - you have to promise me -”

“Anything, Stiles,” Derek whispered. 

“Promise to try. Follow th - the map. Find the pool and try - try, Derek, to end the curse. You deserve - you deserve to be - f - free.”

“Stiles - I can’t just -”

“Promise, Derek. You said anything,” Stiles grumbles, trying to look stern. It makes Derek want to laugh and cry. 

“Okay. Okay, Stiles, - I’ll try.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Stiles smiled for a moment - a beautiful moment - before crying out in pain, gold shining over his chest and collarbones. Derek pulled him close, tears running freely, trying to stay in control of his emotions. Stiles coughed, trying to speak again.

“Stiles, don’t,” Derek said, closing his eyes to the transformation.

“Derek - look at me, pl- please?”

Derek looked down at the boy in his arms, growing heavier with each second.

“Of course. Anything, Stiles,” Derek said. He leaned down for a moment, shakily pressing his lips against Stiles’. They were cold. He was so cold and Derek hated it. 

“I love you, Stiles. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry -”

“I love you too, D - Derek. Derek! I’m-” Stiles gasped as the gold shifted over his chin, slowly curling over his ruffled hair. “Derek - Derek, don’t break your promise - Der -”

And then all that was left was his eyes, blinking once, twice, and then freezing into perfect, solid gold in Derek’s arms. 

“I won’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t - I promise, I promise, I’m sorry, Stiles, I’m so sorry - I promise, I promise…”

Derek stayed there, repeating the words over and over in chaotic patterns, clinging to Stiles’ prone form. Derek curse had taken another. Derek had killed someone he loved again. 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was hours before Derek could convince himself to move. He gently laid Stiles’ form back on the bed, placing his head gently on the pillow. Derek was silent, eyes dry. He had no more tears - his overbearing grief was replaced by dry anger and determination. He dressed himself, ignoring the bed as best he could. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he pulled shoes onto his feet, pulling his formal gloves on as a final touch, turning to stare into the mirror. His eyes were red, his face stoic. He brushed back his hair, fixing his collar, and flexed his hands at his sides. He looked every inch a prince. 

With a deep breath, and one final glance at the bed where Stiles’ body lay, he turned the handle on the door and stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him. He walked slowly to the edge of the corridor and looked down the stairs. It was daytime, the sun streaming in from windows cut into the stone walls, smattering over the tapestries and lighting on the dust in the air. Derek supposed it was beautiful, but it was one of the most terrifying things he’d ever seen. He hadn’t been down the stairs in decades. Stiles had been the one to expand his world from his doorway to the hall - and now, Stiles had him going even further. With one glance back at the closed door, Derek took a breath, and took the first step down the stairs. 

\-----------------------

 

“What is it?” Talia called, someone knocking at her door incessantly. She was distracted, leaning over copies of the maps and scrolls Deaton had dropped off earlier that day. It looked - promising. It was the most promising thing she’d ever seen in terms of the curse, and she was trying not to get her hopes up. Apparently, according to Laura, Derek’s initial reaction hadn’t been promising.

The door swung open to reveal Parrish, her personal guard, mouth gaping. Talia looked at him expectantly. 

“Yes?”

“Your majesty - you - you - ” Parrish’s hands flapped around without direction. 

“Spit it out, man,” Talia said, straightening up. 

Then someone came out from behind Parrish and Talia’s breath stuttered in her chest. 

“Richard?”

Talia’s voice broke, and the man before her spoke. “Mom,” Derek said, stepping forward, and Talia had to brace herself on the desk. His hair was combed back, beard trimmed short on his cheeks, dressed in saturated blues that brought out his eyes. 

“Derek?” Talia moved towards her son, not really believing that he was in her study. He was out of his room - out of that hall he’d trapped himself in. “What - why - is everything alright?”

“No,” Derek said. He set his shoulders. “I need - I need - are those the scrolls about the curse?”

Talia’s eyes didn’t leave Derek as she nodded. “Deaton dropped them off earlier. I thought Stiles was bringing you some? Did he talk to you? Is that why you’re here? Not that, not that I’m not - so happy to see you, baby, but -”

“Yes, that’s - that’s why I came here. I promised - I promised Stiles I would.”

“Is - is everything alright with Stiles?”

Derek started shaking his head back and forth and then couldn’t seem to stop. His mother was suddenly in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, telling him to breathe. She led him to one of the chairs along the wall and sat beside him, her hand comforting up and down his arm as he tried to regain control. He’d never had so much grief inside him, he thought - or maybe it was the fact that he had had hope for the first time since he was a child and then it was snatched from him again. 

“Derek, baby, tell me what’s going on?”

The whole story spilled out, one broken fact after the other, and Talia listened to it all quietly, rubbing her fingers reassuringly up and down his arm all the while. 

“..and so now I have to go. Follow the map. I promised - I promised him I would try.”

Talia squeezed his arm and then let out a long breath. 

“Okay. Then you’ll go.”

Derek looked at her, and she pulled him up until they were both standing. “Mom?”

“Come on, baby. Hales always keep their promises.”

\----------------------------------------

Within an hour, the queen had arranged a carriage, horses and supplies for Derek, set to leave in the morning. She had expressed concern at him traveling alone, so he’d asked Boyd to come along with him. Boyd huffed a little, warning Derek that he’d probably fall asleep if they traveled during the day, but agreed readily enough. 

Derek also asked Boyd to help him carry Stiles down to the carriage house, putting him inside the one they would take with them. Laura had had the body put in another bedroom in the castle, and Talia didn't ask why when Derek asked where he was. Boyd, for all his credit, didn’t ask questions either, didn’t demand explanations and didn’t complain. That was exactly why Derek had asked him to come along. Derek couldn’t explain why he was bringing Stiles’ body anyway - there was no point, anymore. He was gold - he was gone. But Derek had this ache in his chest when he thought about leaving him behind, so with them he went. 

Derek spent almost the whole night pouring over the maps with Talia and Deaton, planning the trip and trying to narrow down where the cave would be. The scrolls weren’t exactly specific, so Derek was preparing to be gone for weeks, if necessary. 

At first light, Derek dressed and stared at himself in the mirror hanging on the wall in his room. The sunset weaving shimmered next to it, drawing Derek’s eye, and he stared at it for a moment before straightening his shoulders, pulling on his gloves, and stepping over the threshold and down the stairs. It still sent a tingle of apprehension down his rib cage, but it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as it had been for so many years previous. 

When he got to the stables, he was surprised to see a crowd gathered around TWO carriages and far more horses than they had planned on taking. 

“What is going on?” Derek asked Boyd in passing, and he shrugged. “Couldn’t talk them out of it.”

Erica, Lydia, Isaac, Scott, Laura, Cora, Captain Stilinski and Derek’s mother were all milling about, everyone but the captain and the queen in traveling clothes, packing bags into the carriages and tightening straps on the horses. 

Erica came up to him, Laura following and putting an arm around her shoulder as they both gave him identical smirks.

“Thought you could sneak away without telling us, huh?” Erica asked. Derek looked down. 

“You - you don’t know what - I, Stiles, he -”

“We all had a look in the carriage, baby bro. We know what happened, and Boyd filled us in on the plan. We’re coming with you, okay?” Laura said, smirk turning to a sad smile. 

“Why?”

“Because you shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Derek’s chest filled with an emotion he couldn’t contain, and his eyes welled up with tears. 

“Don’t argue, Der,” Cora said, grabbing him around the waist. “You couldn’t stop us if you tried.”

Someone cleared their throat, and Derek looked up to see Captain Stilinski staring at him. Derek roughly wiped his eyes, and coughed. 

“Captain, I - I am so so sorry, sir. I can’t - I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry -”

Stilinski put a hand up, and Derek stopped. “I can’t pretend I’m not - I - I can’t pretend that I’m okay, son, because I’m not. But this curse hasn’t taken anything from me that it’s also taken from you - even more so from you. So go on and find the answer. You deserve it, and I truly mean that. Stiles - well. Stiles loved you, kid, so I’ll defer to his judgement about you.”

Derek had no words to respond. He was overwhelmed, firstly by the forgiveness he found in John’s eyes, forgiveness he couldn’t allow himself - and secondly by the mass of people around him, willing to go with him to what could very well be the ends of the earth to chase something they weren’t sure existed, all because of a promise he made to a boy that they all loved. 

“Derek? Sun’s been up for almost an hour. Let’s get going,” Scott said, lightly touching his shoulder. Derek nodded, wordlessly going up to his mother and offering her a hug. She looked surprised for a moment before gathering him into her arms, and then Derek turned to the group, Allison, Laura and Scott on horses, Isaac and Boyd sitting in the driver’s seats of the two carriages. 

“Ready?” Lydia asked him, opening the door to the second carriage. Erica gestured for him to get inside, and Cora patted the seat next to her. 

Derek nodded again, and stepped inside. They took off towards the sunrise, the prince and his family, his friends, his pack. His people, who loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SORRY OKAY I'LL FIX IT I PROMISE OKAY THIS THING IS GONNA HAVE A HAPPY ENDING DAMNIT
> 
> plz just trust me okay sorry bye *runs away*


	29. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek stared out the window of the carriage, Cora’s head against his shoulder and Laura’s feet up on the seat between them. 
> 
> “Are you okay, baby bro?” Laura asked after a while. 
> 
> Derek looked over at her, and tried to think of anything to say in answer. He was - excited, and terrified; trepidatious and dreading the whole affair. He was a mess. 
> 
> “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. She gave him a small smile and reached across to reassuringly squeeze his knee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHAT IS SUPER UN BETA'D
> 
> THIS IS!!! YAY!!!
> 
> But I was just - hella fucking excited to post this one. We've got two more chapters, and this is the one I've been looking forward to. I hope you like it as much as I do. Thank you so much for following this story for so long. This is a shorter chapter but I just HAD to post it.

They traveled for days. 

The scrolls and notes that Stiles and Deaton had pieced together made up a rather vague sort of map - leading them away from the kingdom and into the mountains. Derek had never been outside of the castle walls, let alone deep into the country. He stared out the windows of the carriage, taking in the scenery and trying not to imagine what Stiles would be saying if he were there. Lydia, Erica and Cora drew him into conversation occasionally, but it was hard enough for Derek to converse with anyone when he was in high spirits. Stiles had always done most of the talking. 

Camp was made quickly and efficiently, Scott starting a fire and Boyd and Isaac setting up some simple shelters for them to sleep under. The group slept close together most nights, Derek on the other side of the fire from them, inching away when he got too close. He wanted desperately to get closer to his friends, his sisters - but he had already killed someone in his sleep and he would not risk it again. 

Allison was navigating, and Derek had poured over the documents over and over again to try and pinpoint exactly where the cave was, and they had a general idea - so Scott, Isaac and Allison took horses out in separate directions, day after day, and searched. Derek stayed at the camp, rotating lookout shifts. He felt useless, because he didn’t know how to cook or take care of horses or basically do anything useful. He needed something to do with his hands, and Allison eventually approached him about it. 

“I have an extra bow in my pack, if you’d like to use it? Just for something to do. You could practice your aim.”

Derek didn’t know what to say, and hadn’t known how to express his gratitude, so he took a page out of Stiles’ book and tentatively hugged her. He could feel her stiffen in surprise, but after a second she relaxed and hugged back. When they parted, Derek could see Laura staring at them. He sort of nodded at her, and she smiled at him. 

He was feeling more natural around everyone by the day, especially his sisters and Erica, who barely left him alone - not that Derek was exactly complaining. He liked the distractions, and the three of them were quite entertaining together, bordering on dangerous when Lydia, Allison, Scott, Isaac and Boyd joined them around the fire at night. The group had formed a rather strong camaraderie in the last week, and while Derek’s heart still ached and burned and he had trouble sleeping and had no idea what to do with himself - he felt like he belonged somewhere for the first time in his life. 

It was early in the afternoon on the fifth day when Isaac came thundering back into camp. Derek had been shooting arrows at a nearby tree, only maybe hitting it once every three tries. He lowered the bow and took in Isaac’s rushed state, the man breathing hard and jumping down from his horse. 

Erica reached him first, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. 

“I found it,” he gasped out, and Derek felt his heart take off. “I found the cave.”

“What? How do you know?” Derek asked, coming up to him. Lydia had joined them, handing Isaac a cup of water. He gulped it down.

“I’m - I’m pretty sure, your highness. Derek. Sorry,” Isaac said, waving a hand. “It’s just like in the scroll, big rock wall with the trees around it - It’s gotta be the place.”

Derek tried to calm himself, tried to tell himself not to get his hopes up. 

“We have to go,” Erica said, turning to Derek. “We have to see.”

“We have to wait for the others,” Lydia cut in. For all Derek wanted to leave at that very moment, Scott, Allison, and Boyd were still out searching and Laura and Cora had gone in search of herbs to add to dinner. 

Derek nodded at her. “We’ll wait until morning,” he said, dreading the hours they had until then. “We’ll wait.”

And so they waited. 

As the group drifted back to camp, Isaac and Erica sharing Isaac’s find, Derek found himself restless and pacing. He couldn’t concentrate on shooting, or reading, or even riding - Boyd had been helping him learn how to ride horseback, but he couldn’t now. Now that they were so close - or potentially so close to the answer he’d been wanting his whole life. 

Was there a way to rid himself of the golden touch? Was there a way to put an end to his family’s curse? The very idea was thrilling and terrifying all at once. He wished he could talk to Stiles about it. Stiles - 

Derek found himself outside the carriage that held Stiles’ golden body, his feet taking him there without realizing it. He’d avoided it the whole trip, carefully ignoring the four wheels and berating himself for bringing Stiles in the first place. But he couldn’t leave him behind, not after - everything. 

“I wish you could talk to me,” Derek said softly, speaking at the carriage door. He couldn’t bring himself to open it, to see the lifelessness in the body that had once held such life. 

“I wish you could distract me from the waiting. You were always so good at that - distracting me. You distracted me even when you didn’t mean to. I - I am so in love with you, I could hardly look away. Was in love with you. No, _am_ in love with you. It - it doesn’t matter that you’re gone. It doesn’t - I will always love you. I’m sure of it. My mother still loves my father, and he - he’s been dead for years. So I know I can love you longer than this.”

Derek paused, putting one hand on the handle, heart high in his chest. He was torn between opening the carriage and keeping it closed. 

“We’re almost there, Stiles. We’re almost there. I can’t - I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but I’m excited. I want to know - I need to know. If it’s true. I don’t know when I started believing your ridiculous theory that I could actually be rid of this curse, but somehow - somehow I believe it. And tomorrow, I guess - tomorrow we’ll find out if you were right all along. You are always right, you know. You are - you were always right about me, at least.”

Picturing Stiles’ face, Derek smiled at the self-satisfied smirk Stiles would wear if he ever had heard Derek proclaim that. In a burst of courage, Derek opened the door, and breathed out in relief when he saw that someone had covered Stiles’ body up with a blanket. To an outside view, it almost looked like a man was just - sleeping, stretched haphazardly along the inside seat of the carriage. The royal carriages were roomy, the seats plush. It was totally plausible.

Leaning against the frame, Derek was struck with the parallel of himself in his room, unanswering to Stiles as he chattered on, leaning against the door jam in the early days of their friendship. 

“I miss you. I’m - I don’t know what to do without you, Stiles. I didn’t - I didn’t ever think I’d have to be without you, and....and it’s my fault, again. I know you’d tell me to stop talking like that, but - but it IS my fault. I did this to you, and I - I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”

Against his better judgement, Derek leaned forward and grabbed the cloth, pulling it slowly down, breath coming short and shallow. As the top of Stiles’ head was revealed, glimmering in the setting sun, Derek almost stopped. Almost. But morbid curiosity had the fabric falling all the way down the golden body, revealing Stiles’ face and his eyes - dead, golden eyes. It was still a shock, though Derek didn’t know what he had expected differently. It was like a sword in the chest to see the emptiness there, and he felt his knees go weak, clinging to the carriage for strength. 

“I’m so - I’m so _sorry_ , Stiles. I’m so - so -” Derek whispered, over and over, and that’s where Scott found him. 

“Derek, come on. Derek, you have to - let go, Derek come on.” 

Scott’s soothing voice felt far away, as did the hands on his arms and shoulders, pulling him towards the campsite. Someone else covered Stiles’ body up again, and Derek closed his eyes as Stiles’ golden face disappeared once more. 

Erica made Derek eat something, practically feeding him until he snapped at her and took the bowl for himself. She smirked at him, but he didn’t have the energy to return the look. Lydia set up his bedroll on the edge of the group as usual, but that night Scott and Boyd slept at his feet, so close they were bumping up against him. He didn’t necessarily liked being looked after like he was unable to do anything himself, but - he was tired. He was so tired and he just let himself be handled gently for once. Somehow he fell asleep, and dreamed of amber eyes. 

 

\-------------------------------

The next morning, they left as the sun rose, and headed west. It was cold, the ground littered with morning dew. Derek put his heavy cloak on over his regular clothes and armor that his mother had insisted he wear. 

“You don’t know what’s going to happen. You haven’t been outside since you were 6 years old. The world is dangerous! You can get hurt riding around in a carriage, let alone on a horse in the wilderness.”

“Mother -”

“Derek Hale, wear the armor, I swear to the gods. Deaton did something to the gold so it’s harder than regular armor and it took him a long time so WEAR IT. I will know if you don’t. I have eyes everywhere.”

Derek had rolled his eyes at his mother’s dramatics, but there he was, in his armor. It was gold, gold colored at least - Deaton had indeed enchanted it to be impenetrable. Gold was so soft, anything Derek would touch would be too flimsy to protect him. Talia had told him that he didn’t need to worry about touching it because of the spell, but Derek had learned more than once to lean towards the paranoid side and had yet to touch it without gloves on. 

He had only touched something once on the trip so far, and the reaction had been - expected, he supposed, but still shocking to him. He’d never had so many people witness the curse before. Scott had been tossing a small sack of something back and forth between himself and Isaac, and Derek had been shaking the dust from the day out of his gloves. Scott yelled, and Derek looked up to see the sack coming right for him, so without thinking he reached up and grabbed it out of the air. 

The change was instantaneous, as always, and Derek dropped the now solid bag like it was on fire. 

“I’m - I’m sorry, Scott, I didn’t - I’ll make you another.”

With wide eyes, Scott approached him, staring down at the sack in the dirt. “That’s - cool, man, it’s not a big deal. Can I - is it safe to touch?”

Derek nodded stiffly, and Scott picked it up, marveling at it. Isaac and Lydia came over next, and soon everyone but the Hales were staring at the gold bag. 

Isaac said “That’s amazing,” and Derek snapped back unthinkingly. “No it’s not. It’s called a curse for a reason,” and then stalked over to the empty carriage and slammed the door. 

The sack disappeared and no one said anything about it again. 

As they traveled to the spot Isaac had found the day before, Derek stared out the window of the carriage, Cora’s head against his shoulder and Laura’s feet up on the seat between them. 

“Are you okay, baby bro?” Laura asked after a while. 

Derek looked over at her, and tried to think of anything to say in answer. He was - excited, and terrified; trepidatious and dreading the whole affair. He was a mess. 

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. She gave him a small smile and reached across to reassuringly squeeze his knee.

When the rumbled to a stop, Derek took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out, taking in the trees and the huge stone wall in front of them. It was just like the poem had described; a circle of old cedar trees around the base of a rock wall, smooth like a door. The trees were thick and tall, and the rock was old and crumbling, but still unnaturally smooth on the side facing the circle of trees, almost as if it had been sanded down. 

Derek slowly approached the rock wall, running a gloved hand over the surface. It was so dark it was almost black, and cold to the touch. For some reason he had expected to feel something - something magic, maybe, when he touched it. But there was nothing. 

“What now?” Erica asked, coming up beside him. 

“I don’t know.”

\--------------------------------

The group went over every inch of the rock that they could reach, even climbing up on the top of the carriages in order to reach the top, but there didn’t seem to be a way inside. The rock stood straight up in the earth, about a half mile wide, with only the side facing the trees smooth. There were no cracks, hardly any ripples or hand holds in order to climb it, and no clues. Derek went back over and over the maps and the poems, even reading through the scrolls that weren’t as specific, to try and find any answers. According to the bard’s poem, there was a pool inside the great rock cave that had healing and cleansing powers. But how to get inside? There was no great door, as one of the maps said - not even an inkling of a entrance. It was frustrating, to say the least. 

At the end of the day, Derek collapsed on his bedroll, angry and exhausted, and fell into a fitful sleep. His dreams were snatches of conversation and memories and Stiles - Stiles was always everywhere.

He woke up before the sunrise, still tired, but couldn’t fall back asleep. Boyd, on the early watch, nodded at him as he sat up, but didn’t comment on the early hour. Derek stood, stretched, and stared at the stone wall, waiting for inspiration. Still nothing. He sighed, and turned back to the camp. He decided to shoot some arrows to get his mind off everything for a moment. He pulled on his boots and, after hearing his mother’s reminder in his head, pulled on the armor as well, even though he wasn’t going far. He stayed within sight of the camp while he practiced, and after so many days of constant work, he was improving. Allison joined him after a while, shooting her own arrows at the targets they’d set up the day before, and the two of them worked in silence until Laura called them back over for some food. 

“Here you go, wild man,” Laura said, handing over some dried meat and cheese, grinning cheekily at Derek. He ran a gloved hand over his face, scratching at his beard - it was fuller than it had ever been in his life, as he had kept it closely groomed at the castle. Now it was thick and long and itchy. 

“You should trim it,” Lydia told him, handing over a small mirror. Derek turned the mirror and looked at himself. His beard WAS longer, bushy and unkempt. He scowled at himself, shoving the cheese into his mouth and then turned to his own travel bag to look for his smaller dagger, hoping to calm his facial hair down. But the dagger wasn’t in his bag. He frowned, confused. He could have sworn he packed it. He dumped the contents into his lap, but to no avail - the dagger was nowhere to be found. 

“Her majesty the queen moved some things around the morning we left, making sure you had everything you’d need for the journey. There was a second bag in the first carriage for you, sir,” Boyd quietly spoke, and Derek glanced at him. 

“Of course she did. Thanks,” Derek said, putting his things back together and standing. He wandered over to the carriage in question, studiously ignoring the one Stiles’ body was in, and found another small satchel in the back seat. Inside was an extra pair of gloves, his dagger, and - a journal. A journal that seemed familiar somehow. 

Dagger and beard forgotten, Derek flipped open the journal and flipped through the pages, elegant writing he didn’t know covering page after page. It seemed to be some sort of record, dates at the top of the pages, but it didn’t read like a diary - the entries were disjointed, notes littering the margins, and some pages only had a few nonsensical words on them. 

About half way through the journal, the writing changed and Derek started, recognizing Stiles’ hand. The entries looked much the same, each page with a date, but the first entry caught his eye because his own name was written in the words. 

It was - a story, of some sort, Derek didn’t know what. 

_Derek was there. We were in a forest of some sort. Scott, Erica and Lydia were there too, and they all had flowers in their hair. Derek had a full beard, it was totally out of control. He was also wearing golden armor, which is ridiculous._

Derek looked down at his golden armor, and self-consciously touched his beard. He glanced over at the camp, and his eyes widened as he saw Cora and Erica braiding flowers into Scott’s hair. Looking back down at the journal, he kept reading. 

_There’s this huge black stone wall thing, and Derek glares at it. Then I don’t know how, but we’re suddenly inside the rock and the walls and ceiling are gold, with stars carved into them. There’s a perfectly circular pool in the middle of the floor, and Derek stares at it. He begins to take off his armor and clothes, (oh my god he’s so gorgeous) and then he steps into the water. It swirls up around him, and a voice I can’t understand speaks. He falls. I can’t reach him, and then I’m in the water too. I can’t breathe. And then I wake up._

 

That was end of the entry. Derek’s heart was beating in his chest. He remembered Stiles telling him about the same dream, the day they had - the first time they had - 

Did that mean Stiles could see the future? Derek hadn’t even realized the parallels until he read them. It felt so long ago. 

Reading the passage again, a phrase stuck in his head - “the walls and ceiling are gold.” Gold. So either the inside of the rock was already gold, or Derek had to -

He stood, placing the journal back in the satchel with shaking hands. He walked over past the camp, ignoring the questions his friends were asking him, only able to focus on the rock wall in front of him. If Stiles had seen him in the forest with Scott and Lydia and in golden armor and with a beard - would it be such a stretch to think that Stiles had also been right about seeing Derek inside the cave? The _golden_ cave?

Stopping in front of the smooth rock, Derek lifted up his right hand and pulled off his glove. He hesitantly reached out, hands still shaking, and stopped a hairsbreadth away from the rock. He could feel it now, the thing he’d expected before - the humming magic between him and the wall. It was like sparks on his skin. It felt like Stiles. So he leaned forward and gently touched the rock with his bare hand. 

The gold went outwards from Derek’s hand, the color sweeping upwards and over, and as it spread over the dark face, it revealed lines carved into the stone. Derek stepped back, hand on his chest, heart pounding, as he watched the shape of a huge door appear where blank stone had been previously. There was script across the top, curved leaved patterned down the sides, and as the gold change reached the base of the wall, there was a great groan, a crack, and then the door opened a crack, just an inch of space. Derek held his breath, waiting for something else to happen, but all was silence. 

“Bro,” Scott said behind him, and he turned to see the party all staring at him. 

“How did you know to do that?” Isaac asked. 

“I - Stiles told me.” 

“What?”” Laura said, stepping towards him. 

“His - the dream journal thing.”

“Oh, yeah, he told me about that,” Scott said, rubbing his forehead and still staring. 

“What?” Laura repeated.

“I’ll - I’ll explain it later. I have to -”

“Do you want anyone to go with you?” Allison asked. Derek shook his head. He had to do this alone - and plus, he’s been the only one inside during Stiles’ vision. 

“We’ll be right here, Der,” Erica said, squeezing his shoulder. He looked at her, and then around the circle of this friends. Taking a deep breath, he nodded, turned towards the door and pulled it open enough to step through. With one last backwards glance, he went inside and the door swung shut behind him with a hollow clang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEREK HAD THE POWER TO END HIS CURSE THE WHOLE TIME AAAAAAAHHHH THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING AND I'M FREAKING OUT ABOUT IT YAY
> 
> More soon, my darlings. Come see me on [tumblr.](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com) ily bye


	30. The Pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened?” 
> 
> “I – I'll tell you in a second. I need to just -” Derek walked towards the camp circle, eyes on the bow Allison had been letting him practice with. He looked down at it, and then slowly pulled the glove off of his right hand. There was silence in the clearing, save a distant bird call. Every eye was on him.
> 
> He reached down with a trembling hand, goosebumps rising on his skin.
> 
> He closed his eyes at the last second, too scared to trust in the curse and too scared to see something else turned to cursed gold. But when his hand came in contact with the bow, there was no familiar ripple. No cool metal under his fingertips, just smooth wood, warmed by the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
> OKay here's the second to last chapter, I know it's been a while BUT HERE. Thank you for waiting for me and my life to slow down. I'm please with how this turned out and I hope you are too!

It wasn't dark inside, which was the first thing Derek noticed. The walls themselves seemed to be glowing with a soft light, bathing the whole inside with – well, gold. Derek's touch had turned the door, the walls, and the ceiling gold. There were hundreds of stars carved into the top of the cave, glittering down and reflecting on the surface of a pool of water in the center. The pool was in a perfect circle, obviously not nature-made, and as Derek approached, he could steps down into the darkness, shapes of golden ships and what Derek hoped were statues of golden people deep at the bottom. He remembered the so-called Pool of Glass from the bard's poem – water so clear it reflected the stars – and this couldn't be anything but that. 

This thought was further confirmed as Derek looked around the room and saw that there were swooping letters carved into the stone – into the gold. Stepping around the pool, he could eventually read the line. 

**“And so he shall come, and alone be able to enter – his curse is his gift, and it shall reveal the way to him. The water will cleanse him and all he has turned, and the line will be broken from that day forth.”**

Derek sucked in a breath. _All he has turned._ Did that – did that mean that Stiles could..that he could? 

“No,” Derek whispered to himself, trying to get his emotions under control. He had to first figure out if the water even worked before he jumped to crazy conclusions about bringing Stiles back to life.  
Turning back to the water, Derek thought of Stiles' premonition, of him stepping into water in a cave made of stars. Grinning to himself as he remembered Stiles' hesitance to tell him the details of such a dream, Derek began to strip off his armor, methodically placing each piece in a neat pile near the cave's entrance. The cave was also surprisingly warm, so he was comfortable as he got down to just his skin. He glanced back at the closed door, nervous about being exposed, but it remained closed, and the group outside wouldn't come in unless he was inside for hours on end. 

Taking a breath, he dipped one foot in, stepping down on the first stair. The water was barely cooler than the room around him. He took another step, and another, until the water hit his chest. He delicately dipped his hands into the pool, expecting something to happen when he did. 

Nothing.

Frowning, he lifted his hands up again, looking at them as if he could see an answer. Then there was a great grating noise, and the stairs shifted beneath him, pitching him forward into the water. It was dark, and Derek couldn't find anything to hold onto. In his panic he lost his breath and sunk lower into the pool, everything around him gold until his eyes closed and all he saw was darkness. 

Not a moment later, Derek was standing in an unfamiliar room, dripping wet, still naked. There was a woman sitting in a chair across from him, staring out a window into darkness. She was draped in silver robes, shoulders and feet bare, silvery blonde hair streaming down her back. 

“Where am I?” Derek asked, and she slowly turned towards him, a sick smile on her lips. She was beautiful, but in a way that reminded Derek of a predator, a dangerous kind of beauty. Even more startling were her eyes, which were solid silver orbs that softly glowed. 

“Little prince. You found me at last,” she said, her voice soft and loud at the same time. There was an unnatural hiss in her tone, as if extra air was leaking out of her mouth.

“Who are you? And where am I?” Derek repeated, crossing his arms. He didn't bother covering himself up, as he wasn't sure the woman could see him with her strange eyes in the first place. 

“You are in the Pool of Glass, little prince.”

“How – how am I standing here, then?”

She laughed, a cruel sound. “Magic, of course. I thought you'd know that, with the company you keep.”

“How do you know that?”

“You are touched by love, little prince. I can see it in you. A touch of magic, as well.”

“Who are you? Are you – are you the Silver Mage?”

“Good boy. Yes, I am Katherine.”

“Then you're the one who did this – who did this to me. To my family. To – to Stiles.”

“No, little prince, I merely granted a wish. Your forefather is the one that did this to you.”

“How do I rid myself of it?” Derek asked, getting uncomfortable with Katherine’s unblinking stare. 

“Now why would you think that you can do that?”

Cold dread filled Derek's stomach, and he felt his knees go weak. There was no cure. There was nothing to do. He was cursed for always, and Stiles was gone forever. “There's – there has to be a way!” He said to her. Stiles had told him there was. Stiles had DIED for this. 

Katherine's ugly laughter filled the room again, and seemed to multiply each passing second. Derek covered his ears as the sound swelled, and yelled at her to stop. She laughed at him. Derek turned and found no door, no way out of the room. 

“Stop! STOP!” Derek shouted again, hands over his ears, falling to his knees at the force of the laughter. It wasn't even a laugh anymore, but a roaring, overwhelming wave of echoing noise mocking him and his foolish belief that he would ever be free. 

With a roar of anger, Derek stood and stepped forward to grab Katherine's shoulders, her bare skin ice cold to the touch. Abruptly, the sound stopped and Derek's ears rang with it's memory. Katherine stared at him, smile still on her face, and she sighed out as her silver eyes closed. Derek let go of his hold immediately, and she sank back into her chair, the points on her shoulders where Derek had touched leaking gold. The color swirled down her skin and across her neck, and right before it stole across her mouth, she spoke one last time. 

“Good, little prince. It is finished.”

Then she was still, every piece of the Silver Mage turned gold by the very gift she had bestowed. 

Water rushed around Derek and he gasped, grappling for a handhold. His knee hit something solid and he found himself clinging to the stairs at the edge of the pool. He surged forwards, sucking in air as his head broke the surface. He just sat, half out of the water, breathing for a moment. He looked back into the pool, but saw nothing amiss, the golden ships and people still frozen at the bottom. Magic was terrifying, he thought to himself. 

Standing, he shook of as much of the water as he could. His hands didn't look any different, didn't feel any different, but – Katherine had said “It is finished.” Did that mean..?

Derek looked down at his clothing. All of it was enchanted, and armor plated with gold. He couldn't test the curse on his own belongings. The very walls of the cave were already turned, so he would have to go back out to his friends and ask for something to touch. The very idea was both exhilarating and scared him to death. What if he was cured? What if he wasn't? 

He re-dressed himself, including the gloves out of habit, and the door swung open on it's own accord as if sensing Derek's proximity. His friends outside all were staring at the door as he came out, each almost humorously frozen in the middle of various activities. Laura was the first to approach, which was not surprising, and she lightly touched his arm, looking concerned. 

“What happened?” 

“I – I'll tell you in a second. I need to just -” Derek walked towards the camp circle, eyes on the bow Allison had been letting him practice with. He looked down at it, and then slowly pulled the glove off of his right hand. There was silence in the clearing, save a distant bird call. Every eye was on him.

He reached down with a trembling hand, goosebumps rising on his skin, and the last words of Katherine rang in his ears. _It is finished. It is finished. It is finished._

He closed his eyes at the last second, too scared to trust in the curse and too scared to see something else turned to cursed gold. But when his hand came in contact with the bow, there was no familiar ripple. No cool metal under his fingertips, just smooth wood, warmed by the sunlight. Breathing out, Derek opened his eyes and saw the bow, whole and beautifully wooden in his grasp. Tears filled his eyes and fuzzed his vision, but it was still there. Wooden bow in naked hand. The curse was broken. He was free. 

As he straightened up, Laura whooped and ran to him, and it was like breaking the dam. He was suddenly at the center of a mass of laughing, talking and crying, hands everywhere. Cora grabbed his gloved hand and ripped the fabric off, tossing it aside and taking both his hands into hers. He almost cried out in warning out of habit, but she put his hands on either side of his face and all he felt was her skin, tears running down her cheeks and wetting his palms. Laura hooked her pinky around his, Lydia pinched his thumb, Erica kissed his knuckle, Isaac and Boyd both shook his hand and Scott clasped it in a grip painfully reminiscent of how Scott usually greeted Stiles. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, suddenly remembering the words on the wall of the cave. _The water will cleanse him and all he has turned._

“What?” Scott asked, his hands still around Dereks. 

“There was – there was something in the cave that said the water would, would – the water will cleanse him and all he has turned.”

“Does that mean...?” Erica asked, and Derek shook his head. “I don't know. I don't know.”

Cora turned to look back at the cave, the door still slightly ajar. “Can we go back in?”

“I think so. She – the mage, she's gone.”

“What happened?” Lydia asked him. 

Derek recounted the details of the cave and the water, the room and the woman. “I don't really understand what happened, but obviously it worked.”

“Let's try this first,” Isaac said, bringing the golden bag that Derek had turned earlier out of his pack. Derek hadn't realized he had kept it, but was glad for it now. 

Issac walked towards Derek, and held out the bag, sunlight glinting off of it. Derek's hands hovered over it, but then grabbed it from Isaac. It was heavy and cold in his hand. He turned back towards the cave without a word, followed by the group of them. 

He could hear his sisters murmuring about the cave when they got inside, and Lydia traced the words carved into the wall with her hands. 

“Can I touch the water?” Erica asked, toes edging the pool. 

“I don't see why not,” Derek said, kneeling in front of the submerged staircase. It hadn't changed at all, the ships and statues frozen at the bottom. 

Scott knelt next to him, hand on his shoulder. They shared a look, and Scott nodded, and then Derek plunged the golden bag in his hand into the pool. 

There wasn't a sound, other than the water. Derek felt nothing, and after a moment gingerly raised his hand out of the water. The bag glinted gold. 

Derek's chest went tight with disappointment, a crushing weight that surprised him. He hadn't realized how much he was putting into the healing factor of the enchanted water. Frustrated, he stood and dropped the bag on the ground, meaning to go back out to the carriages. 

“Derek, wait! Look!”

Scott's voice made him turn, and Scott was there, holding out the bag – the dripping wet, brown, burlap bag just as it was before Isaac had tossed it to him days before. 

Derek stared down at it, taking it into his hands, still a little shocked when it didn't turn to gold at the first contact with his skin. But it was unchanged, burlap, rough, and blessedly not gold. 

“That means -”

“We have to -”

“Let's -”

There was a flurry of voices and movement and then Boyd and Isaac were carrying the golden body of Stiles and all Derek could do was stare, stare and try not to hope. 

“Do you want to?” Laura asked Derek, reaching out to touch his hand. The feeling of it was startling, but then he grasped hers tight. 

“Yes, I'll – I'll do it. Please.” 

Derek waded into the pool, halfway down the steps until he was up to his chest. Boyd lifted Stiles' form and dipped him into the pool, handing him over to Derek, who held Stiles close to his chest, facing him so it was almost like an embrace. Derek could barely breathe. This could work. This could – this could work. He couldn't even think about it, the idea was too great. 

There was a collectively held breath as Derek dipped the head of Stiles under the water, submerging the entire figure. No one moved as they waited, and waited. 

Nothing happened. 

And then, suddenly, miraculously, unbelievably, Stiles was clinging to Derek's arms, spluttering and spitting water, sucking in air in huge breaths. Derek almost fell over from the unexpected force of Stiles moving against him. They fell onto the steps, Stiles on top of him, leaving Derek with just his head above the water. 

“Stiles!” Scott cried out, and the rest of them all started talking at once. Derek still didn't have words, couldn't take his eyes of Stiles. STILES. Real, alive, warm and wonderful Stiles, breathing in his arms. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked, staring back at him. “Did – did you find it? Where are we? What happened? How -”

Derek kissed him, unable to stop himself after hearing that wonderful voice once more, after being sure it was gone forever. Stiles breathed against him, kissing back and tightening his hold around Derek's shoulders. 

“Okay, enough, stop being gross,” Derek heard Scott say and then they were both dragged out of the water and smothered with hugs. The whole group of them were a mess of limbs and exclamations, everyone talking over each other, trying to tell Stiles what had happened in the last few days. Derek had to let Stiles out of his arms but held tightly to his hand, not in any sort of hurry to let go ever again. 

After a few minutes everyone calmed and Stiles looked back at Derek, smiling softly at him. Derek squeezed Stiles' hand and Stiles looked down, realizing that they were holding hands. 

“You – you're not wearing gloves,” Stiles said, wonder in his voice. “It worked. It worked?”

“Yes, Stiles, it worked,” Lydia said resting her shoulder on Stiles'. Erica and Boyd had their arms around each other, as did Isaac and Cora, which Derek decided he didn't have the capacity to care about at that moment. Allison was on the other side of Lydia, Scott's arm around her shoulder. The lot of them stood in a loose circle, Stiles and Derek dripping wet, everyone holding and hugging and not letting go. It was one of the best moments of Derek's entire life. 

\----------------------------------

 

The journey back was a blur, Derek just trying to get used to being able to touch things with his bare hands and not letting Stiles out of his sight. Stiles seemed similarly attached, so Derek didn't bother to feel guilty about it. 

Apparently Stiles had been vaguely aware of what was happening while he was turned to gold – he didn't have memories, exactly. He said it was more like a fuzzy dream. He knew that they were going somewhere and that Derek had been with him. It didn't hurt, he'd told Derek. It was just cold. 

Derek had pulled him in close and just breathed him in. They stayed in the last carriage together for almost the entire first day, not even really talking, just being together. Derek did tell Stiles about Katherine and the pool, as well as the carved words on the wall that prompted him to Stiles with water. Stiles had insisted they bring some of the water back with them – he wanted to study the water with Deaton to see if it had magical properties of it's own. Derek would rather be done with the whole ordeal but he dutifully filled several of the water bags with water from the pool. 

At night Derek's hands felt achy and cold and above all, exposed. He hated the feeling, but detested the idea of putting the gloves back on when he didn't need them anymore. Stiles picked up on his mood, somehow, and Derek admitted that his hands were bothering him.

“It's going to take a while to get used to, Der,” Stiles said, digging through Derek's pack for the gloves he liked best. “Just think of it as a learning curve. You'll be able to handle them off all the time eventually, but right now your hands are too sensitive.”

Derek took the gloves, looking up at Stiles, who just smiled at him. He sighed and pulled them on, and watched as Stiles took his hands and kissed the tips of each finger, the warmth leeching through the fabric. 

“I love you,” Derek said, the wave of affection rolling through him at the sight. 

Stiles' eyes crinkled in the corners and he kissed Derek's thumb a second time. “I love you too.”

\--------------------------------

The next day they would reach the palace. Derek was nervous and so, so very happy. He had never been so happy and free in his life. Just thinking about the curse being gone made him giddy - it was almost overwhelming. He couldn't wait to see his mother, and bring back a breathing Stiles for the Captain. 

Derek dreamed that night of his father and mother, laughing together, not a lick of gold in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CHAPTER MY DARLINGS  
> YAAAAAy
> 
> Thank you so much for holding on with me this whole time, I hope you were satisfied with this update. Your comments and love mean the world to me.
> 
> (There are now some headcanons about Katherine and the original curse in the comments thanks to the lovely Princess_Ashling_Alroy)


	31. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry to take you away from the dance, your majesty, but I - this is super important, and I didn’t want to say anything to Derek because I’m not like SURE it’ll work but I mean -”
> 
> “Stiles, get to the point,” Talia said with a smile, moving to sit on a small bench against the wall.
> 
> “Yes! Of course, sorry, I think I can bring the king back to life.”
> 
> Talia froze, hand in mid-air as she fixed her hair. Her eyes were wide. 
> 
> “Yes, see, that sounds - crazy? But I was - I was turned by Derek’s curse and - and impossibly, here I am, breathing and alive, and - all it took was some magic water. Which I took the liberty of bringing a few gallons home with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD READERS, HERE IT IS. THE END. THE FINALE. GOOD GOD IT TOOK ME SO LONG. This chapter is hella long, but I think it's exactly how to end everything.
> 
> I did NOT edit this story and have no beta for this chapter, so if you notice a mistake I would love it if you commented and told me.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this story, your comments make my day every time I get one, and thank you for your patience with me. It's been quite a journey and I'm very attached to this - so I'm glad you all like it to. 
> 
> Sterek will never die. Please enjoy.

Derek awoke to the sound of hoof beats, pounding away on cobblestone. As he blinked, looking over to see Stiles still asleep next to him, he realized that they must be back home, traversing the streets leading up to the castle. 

“Stiles,” Derek said gently, leaning into him. After a second’s hesitation he pulled off his gloves, which he had fallen asleep with the night before, and carded his fingers through Stiles’ hair. Stiles mumbled something and his lips curved upwards, slowly coming to consciousness. 

“Good morning, love,” Derek said to him, smiling. 

“Good morning,” Stiles answered, and Derek could almost hear the retching Laura would have made at the sappiness of the moment. But it was exactly what Derek wanted and more. 

The horses slowed, and then the carriage came to a stop. The door swung open, spilling sunlight onto them both, and Derek squinted up to see Scott’s smiling face. 

“We’re here!” He said, and Stiles groaned, throwing Derek’s hand over his eyes.

“Come on, Scotty, I just woke up, give me a second before you literally light up my life.”

Derek huffed and him and shifted, letting Stiles lean against the wall as he exited. He didn’t expect the crowd of people standing in the courtyard, every eye on him. There was his mother and Captain Stilinski at the front, Melissa the healer next to them. Parrish and the rest of the royal guard as well as the kitchen staff - actually, what looked like the entirety of the castle’s staff as well as dozens of townspeople Derek didn’t recognize. As he stepped towards his mother, Talia extended her arms and embraced him, murmuring a welcome in his ear. 

“What is all this for?” Derek asked, stepping back to look at the crowd. He’d never seen so many people in his life and it was honestly making him nervous. 

“Well, we were planning on keeping your journey and subsequent return a secret, so only a few people were told. Therefore, naturally, every single person in the kingdom knows about it now.”

“Naturally,” Derek said dryly, remembering Laura’s complaints of court gossip well. 

“You - you look better than I think I’ve ever seen you, darling,” Talia said, hands still on his shoulders. 

“Well, there’s a couple reasons for that,” Derek said, and then was nearly bowled over by Captain Stilinski, who had realized that the man stepping out of the carriage behind Derek was his son. 

“Stiles! Stiles, you - you’re alive, you, how?” The captain was asking, all the while holding tightly to Stiles and from the looks of things, making it hard to breathe. 

“So you found it,” Talia whispered, staring at Stiles. “It - it worked.”

Derek responded by taking off his gloves slowly, telegraphing his actions to his mother, before reaching out and taking both her hands in his. She exhaled slowly, tears filling her eyes as she realized that the curse was broken. 

“I’m free, mom. I’m free.” He smiled at her and she laughed wetly, trying to reign in her emotions. There were still in public, after all. 

In fact, there was a collective chatter rising from the group behind the queen, so she squeezed Derek’s hands tightly before realizing one and turning to the crowd.  
“As many of you know,” she began, her voice ringing out proudly, “my family has been under the oppression of a curse since before we had accurate records of such a time. Our line has suffered, and tried to keep the details of the curse from the ear of the people, but - of course, that never works.”

There were titters of laughter, and Talia smiled obligingly. Laura and Cora came up next to Derek, Laura taking his other hand and Cora leaning into Laura’s side. 

“The firstborn son of the royal line has been cursed for decades, their touch turning everything, both living and not, to gold. This sounds almost desirable at first, but one soon realizes what a terrible gift it is. My brother suffered so much from his condition that he ended his own life.”

Although Derek had known on some level that his uncle had killed himself, he hadn’t ever heard confirmation of the fact. The idea of it made his chest tight, and both his mother and sister squeezed his hands tighter. 

“My son was suffering the same fate, devoid of community and touch for his entire life. However, as you can see, he will not have the same end. Stiles Stilinski, as many of you know, is a new member of the castle guard and was tasked with providing protection to my son. He had discovered an ancient text of how to perhaps break the curse and thus has returned victorious with your prince, Derek Hale, free from curse and free to live.” 

Talia raised her hand upwards, taking Derek’s with her, and a cheer broke out among the people. Derek was overwhelmed, both by the size of the crowd and their fervor. Warm hands wrapped around his middle from behind, grounding him, and Stiles pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Breathe, baby. They adore you, just like I said they would.” Derek smiled, looking down at his feet, unable to meet the crowd. One day, maybe, he’d be less bashful in the eye of his people, but for the moment he was satisfied to stand with his family and his beloved, finally and utterly free. 

\-------------------------------

All Derek had wanted to do when they returned to the castle was to be in the same room as Stiles, not leaving his side, but there were so many things for him to do. Stiles was swept away almost immediately by his father, which Derek couldn’t blame him for. Captain Stilinski - John, as he had told Derek to call him, promised he’d have Stiles back to Derek before nightfall. Derek wasn’t sure he could wait that long. 

This waiting time wasn’t to be spent idle. Talia led him into a meeting with Deaton and some members of the court to go over what had happened. Derek recounted again the tale of the cave and Katherine, having to hash out the details over and over in order to satisfy everyone. By the end he was exhausted but no where close to being done. 

Talia had planned a dinner to celebrate his return, and the staff was running about preparing things. Laura wanted Derek to give a speech, which terrified him, and Cora wanted him to tell the whole story again, which he refused. Talia kept saying things like, “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Derek,” which was the opposite of helpful because the answer to that question was nothing. He was comfortable with nothing that was happening and kept imagining how wonderful his bed would feel. 

The next shock actually had to do with his bedroom - Talia rather abruptly informed him that her personal staff had been working on preparing him some quarters in the main hall for him to move into, and he should start packing up his belongings so the staff could relocate them. 

“Mom, what - why did you do that?” Derek asked, his anxiety spiking. The thought of unfamiliar territory after everything that had happened was not something he wanted to deal with. 

“I had - hoped, assumed, whatever, that you would want to live closer to your sisters and I, instead of isolating yourself in the west tower. Is that not what you want, honey?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just unexpected. I’m - dealing with a lot all at once.”

“Of course, baby, I’ll stop with the room. You can move whenever you want to.”

Without realizing it, Derek had been picturing his room in the tower to return to - along with Stiles in his bed. He hadn’t even thought of everything changing when they returned. Logically, it made sense that he would move out his isolated room and into the royal suites that would have been his home sans curse, but when he thought of HOME, he thought of that tiny room far above the castle with it’s one window and sparse decorations. 

Honestly, Derek had no time to worry about it, because he was quickly whisked away into more formal meetings, a fitting with the royal tailor, who had never before seen Derek because of the curse, with the cooks for preferences on dinner, with music and other tutors that he hadn’t been able to meet with as a child. 

In the midst of running about, he was actually able to visit the library, which he’d always wanted to do. It was far larger than he’d imagined, but he was only able to spend scant minutes perusing before he was called away for another meeting. 

At dusk, he was finally released until dinner - “You have two hours, Derek, then I expect you in the ballroom,” - and Derek practically ran up the steps to his old room. He was exhausted. 

He had been unconsciously expecting Stiles to be sitting there, just as usual, reading or weaving or tinkering with something. The chair was empty, which sent a pang through him as another reminder of how everything was going to change. Would he even be able to see Stiles regularly anymore? Would they have time to be together or would his life turn into some sort of constant parade of meetings and fittings and appearances? Would Stiles even want to be a part of that? 

Bogged down by his thoughts, he slowly walked to the door and turned the handle. 

Well, _tried_ to turn the handle, anyway. To his shock, the door was locked. 

He’d never experienced the door from this side. All he could do was stare at the handle, twisting his hand again and again, to no avail. He was locked out of the only place he’d ever called home. 

Of course, he could run back downstairs and get a guard to let him in, or get a key from his mother, but it just - hit him. Everything that had happened to him that day just settled on his chest and he ended up on the floor, back to the door, staring at the ceiling. All he wanted was sleep, and Stiles. He buried his hands in the fabric of his shirt, over sensitized and having no idea where his gloves were.

“Hey, why the long face?”

Derek tilted his head down and met Stiles’ eyes, golden in the low light. He was softly grinning, dressed in uniform and looked more beautiful than Derek had ever seen him. 

Without saying a word, Stiles moved towards him, kneeling in front of him on the stone floor and running fingers through Derek’s hair as if he’d had a psychic connection with Derek’s immediate desires. 

“Didn’t want to go inside yet?” Stiles asked. Derek’s eyes slipped closed. 

“Couldn’t. Locked.”

“Well now you know how I feel.”

Derek glared with one eye, though it wasn’t very effective seeing as Stiles just started laughing at him. He pulled on Derek’s arms until they stood together, and Stiles reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a key. Derek raised an eyebrow, surprised that Stiles had it on him, and Stiles shrugged. 

“Just in case,” he said, and then clicked open the lock and pushed the door wide. 

The room looked smaller than Derek remembered. It was dark, the barest amount of the setting sun peeking through the window. The bed was made, which made Derek wrinkle his nose at the thought of someone else being there while he’d been gone. 

Stiles pulled him to the bed, and brushed a hand along his shoulders before silently slipping off his coat and pulling Derek’s shift over his head. Derek hid his hands behind his back from habit, but Stiles grabbed each and pressed a soft kiss to his palms. Stiles kneeled and unlaced his boots as well as Derek’s, Derek’s hands loosely in Stiles’ soft hair, and then Derek was pulled into the bed, wrapped up in Stiles arms. He breathed out contentedly, shifting against Stiles’ body until he was comfortable. Stiles pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“I love you,” he whispered, and Derek was asleep before he could respond. 

\---------------------------

They were woken by a loud banging on the door, and Stiles shot upright, hair pressed flat on one side and and blinking sleepily. He hadn’t meant to actually fall asleep, he had only wanted to help Derek relax. He’d looked completely overwhelmed and Stiles was feeling the tension himself, so he couldn’t imagine what Derek was dealing with. 

The loud knock came again, and Derek mumbled something and turned over, freeing Stiles to stumble out of the bed and fix his rumpled clothes before opening the door. Boyd and Parrish stood, dress in formal attire, both smiling smugly when they saw it was Stiles instead of Derek at the door. 

“Seriously, Stiles? Dinner is in less than 20 minutes,” Boyd said, shaking his head. Stiles glared at both of them until the words made sense in his head, and then he felt his eyes widened as he spun to look at the still-sleeping, definitely-not-ready prince in the bed behind him. 

“Be out soon!” He practically yelled in the guard’s faces, and slammed the door. The noise must have woken Derek because when Stiles turned again, Derek was blearily sitting up and looking at him, confused. 

“Stiles?”

“Der, babe, I know you just woke up and you’re tired but we have to go like now, we have 15 minutes and the whole freaking kingdom is gonna be at this thing so get up and get DRESSED.”

Derek had never been particularly clumsy, specifically in comparison to Stiles, so Stiles was surprised and barked out a laugh when Derek literally fell off his bed before standing, ripping the tangled covers off his body. 

“Shut up,” Derek growled, rubbing his eyes. He was so adorable, so beautiful that Stiles didn’t stop himself from following the impulse to kiss him. Derek hummed happily at him, wrapping his hands around Stiles hips. They both froze when Derek’s bare hands brushed Stiles’ skin, just under the hem of Stiles shirt, and then Stiles giggled with giddiness at the knowledge that they could just - touch. It was safe, and they’d never have to worry about it again. Derek grinned back at him, happiness painting his features, and kissed him softly again. 

Stiles reluctantly pulled away, looking at Derek seriously. “Derek, stop distracting me and get dressed. Your mom is gonna kill me.”

“Please,” Derek said, pulling his shirt over his head, “you know you’re her favorite.” 

Stiles couldn’t help himself, one moment he was innocently standing there and the next his hands were wrapped around Derek’s waist, moving over his bare abs. Derek chuckled and wrapped his hands around Stiles’ wrist, bringing one hand up to kiss it. “Now who’s being distracting?”

“I can’t help it,” Stiles’ voice sent shivers down Derek’s spine, his breath right in Derek’s ear. Stiles hands drifted up to tease at Derek’s nipples, which Stiles KNEW were sensitive and used to his advantage far too often. 

“St - ah - Stiles, we have, we have to go -”

“In a minute.”

Stiles tugged on Derek’s shoulder, and Derek turned in his arms, landing in a kiss, which Stiles immediately deepened, sucking on Derek’s lower lip. Derek moaned and twined his fingers through Stiles’ hair, pressing their bodies together until they were one, long line of heat. The idea of dressing for dinner soon left his mind in an almost frantic need to get Stiles UN-dressed, and Derek pulled them back towards the bed until he fell upon it, taking Stiles down with him. Stiles moved to straddle Derek and press hot kisses up and down his neck, making Derek’s skin feel electrified. Stiles practically ripped his own jacket trying to get it off until Derek slowed him down, softly reminding him that he had to look presentable later. 

“I’ll show you presentable,” Stiles muttered, before ducking down and Derek didn’t have time to point out that that didn’t make any sense before Stiles’ mouth was wrapped around his dick. 

“St - Stiles, oh my gods,” Derek said, still in awe of the sensations even though this was definitely not the first time they’d done this. The trip home had turned from clinging desperately to each other in the carriage to desperately trying to keep quiet as they got each other off, many times in many different positions. Derek had taken full advantage of the new freedom of his hands and had traced Stiles’ face, back, ass and cock over and over, tasting him without guilt and anxiety tainting their encounters. 

He was on edge in an embarrassingly fast amount of time, so he tugged lightly on Stiles hair to get him to come back up and drew him into a kiss. 

“You know what we - what we talked about?”

Stiles stilled, pulling back slightly to look Derek in the eyes. 

“You mean..that thing we couldn’t quite pull off in the carriage because of the angle?”

Derek gulped and he nodded seriously. 

“We don’t - I - Derek Hale we do NOT have time for this,” Stiles said, groaning and dropping his head onto Derek’s shoulder. Derek hissed as Stiles’ still-clothed erection brushed against his, and he felt Stiles smile against his neck as he pushed down again, this time purposefully. 

“Thought you said we didn’t have time for this,” Derek growled, gripping Stiles’ hips. 

“We don’t,” Stiles gasped out, grinding down again. 

“Then let’s see how fast I can make you come,” Derek said right in Stiles ear, earning him a full body shudder and a groan. 

“When - when did you get so godsdamn sexy? I’ve created a monster.”

Derek just hummed as he slid his hand down and into Stiles’ pants, wrapping around his dick. It was warm and soft and make Stiles gasp. Derek slowly rubbed a thumb over the slit, precome dribbling out, and Stiles whimpering above him. 

Without warning, Derek flipped the two of them so he was straddling Stiles’ legs, and reached for his cock again. Stiles clenched both hands in the bed sheets above his head and Derek’s head was suddenly filled with thoughts of tying Stiles up and making him come over and over again. 

They didn’t have time for that now, and Derek had been serious about seeing how fast he could make Stiles come. He’d only given Stiles a semblance of a blowjob on the way home, more like mouthing and licking around than actually trying to get him off, and Derek planned on making that change now. He took Stiles in his mouth as far as he could, sucking and moving his tongue along the shaft. 

“Holy fucking mother fucker shit fuck,” Stiles mumbled out, and Derek could feel him straining against Derek’s hands, trying not to buck upwards. 

Derek pulled off and looked Stiles right in the eye. “It’s okay, I want you to. Please.”

“Derek,” Stiles groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

“Please, Stiles, please fuck my mouth. I want you to.”

Stiles exhaled and then slowly threaded his fingers through Derek’s hair, guiding his head back down until he was brushing against the head of Stiles’ dick. 

“You’re - you’re sure about this?”

In lieu of an answer, Derek swallowed Stiles down again, and sucked, hard, making Stiles buck up. His hands tightened in Derek’s hair and Derek moaned at the feeling. Gradually, Stiles began fucking into Derek’s mouth and Derek concentrated on breathing, the very idea of Stiles using him making his own cock pulse. 

“Derek, gods, Derek you feel so good. It’s like - it’s like you were made for me, you feel so damn good. You’re doing so well, baby, I’m - I’m not gonna last long,” Stiles babbled, and his praise made warmth bloom in Derek’s chest and groin. 

“Oh, gods, oh, gods, Derek - Derek -” Stiles gasped out and Derek relished the salty taste burning on his tongue, swallowing as much as he could until Stiles released his grip on Derek’s hair, hand slipping down to the bed limply. 

Derek wasted to time crawling up and pulling his own cock out, stripping it to the sight of Stiles, come-drunk and sated in his bed, hair disheveled and eyes heavy-lidded. It only took a soft, “Come for me, baby,” from Stiles and Derek’s orgasm hit him, making his ears ring and legs shaky. He collapsed on top of Stiles, and came back to himself to Stiles running hands through his hair and humming under his breath. 

“I can’t believe we did that instead of getting ready for dinner.”

“Yeah, I really hope Boyd and Parrish didn’t hang out by the door.”

Derek laughed. “Well, you certainly weren’t quiet, so if they did stick around they know exactly what we were doing.”

“You weren’t exactly the epitome of silence either, babe.”

“At least I had my mouth full. That had to muffle it a bit.”

“Oh my gods, shut up, we do NOT have time for round two. We didn’t even have time for THAT! We’re gonna be late, come on, come on, your mother terrifies me a little we have to go!” Stiles was pushing at Derek’s shoulders, and Derek was trying not to laugh. Stiles was right, they had to get out of there fast, but Derek took the time for one last, slow kiss. 

“I love you,” Derek said, looking deep in Stiles eyes. Stiles smiled at him. 

“Right back atcha, big guy.”

\--------------------

Boyd and Parrish had not stuck around, after all, but they both received smug looks from practically every single person when they walked into the hall about 20 minutes late. Both had been careful to fix their hair and straighten their clothing, but Stiles was still paranoid that somehow he was broadcasting JUST SEXED UP. 

It didn’t bother him much, however, since every time he looked at Derek the prince was practically glowing. 

Dinner was one of the fanciest events Stiles had ever been to. He was immensely grateful that the queen had had the foresight to seat him next to Derek for the meal. Otherwise, Stiles would have made a fool of himself in front of the entire court, his father, and everyone. 

It was a relatively painless affair, with Derek’s gentle pressure on his hand to tell him which utensil to use and when to wait and when to eat. Stiles refrained from commenting, but he was a little surprised that Derek was so well versed in courtly manners. Eating by himself in his room for most of his life apparently wasn’t an excuse for not knowing the rules for the prince. 

Laura winked at Stiles from across the table at least 3 times, and Derek’s pressure on his leg was sometimes distracting, but he enjoyed himself. Derek seemed to be fairly at ease as well, which Stiles selfishly attributed to his own presence. 

There was a dance planned after dinner, which Derek had been less than enthusiastic about, but Stiles had convinced him with some suggestive comments about the dance floor. Stiles, of course, also had an alternative motive for going to the dance. He needed to talk to the queen. Alone. 

He lost Derek in the crowd almost too easily, saying that he had to get something to drink, and Derek had Boyd and Erica at his side. Stiles wasn’t too worried about him. 

“Your majesty,” Stiles said, sliding up next to her while she perused the beverage table. 

“Stiles,” she said warmly, hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“And I’ve been meaning to talk to you. In private.” Stiles eyed her seriously and she sobered. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked, squeezing his shoulder in concern. 

“Everything is more than okay, your majesty, but I hope to improve it even more. Can we move somewhere a little quieter?”

“Of course, let me let Parrish know what’s going on.”

She moved quickly but calmly through the room, smiling and greeting guests as she passed. Stiles found Derek with his eyes, laughing with Boyd and Scott across the room, and couldn’t help smile at how carefree he looked. 

The queen murmured to Parrish, who nodded and moved to follow them as they left the room. Stiles hoped Derek wouldn’t notice his absence - this wouldn’t take too long. 

He followed Talia into a small room off the great hall, nodding at Parrish as he took his place outside the door. 

“What is it, Stiles?” Talia asked, shutting the door softly. 

“I’m sorry to take you away from the dance, your majesty, but I - this is super important, and I didn’t want to say anything to Derek because I’m not like SURE it’ll work but I mean -”

“Stiles, get to the point,” Talia said with a smile, moving to sit on a small bench against the wall.

“Yes! Of course, sorry, I think I can bring the king back to life.”

Talia froze, hand in mid-air as she fixed her hair. Her eyes were wide. 

“Yes, see, that sounds - crazy? But _I_ was - I was turned by Derek’s curse and - and impossibly, here I am, breathing and alive, and - all it took was some magic water. Which I took the liberty of bringing a few gallons home with us.”

The queen was still frozen, staring at Stiles like he had grown a second head. Honestly, Stiles had been sort of expecting this reaction, but he still didn’t know what to do about shocking the most unflappable woman in the kingdom into silence. 

“Your majesty?” He asked, tentatively, taking a step towards her. 

Her head swiveled to the door, no doubt thinking of her secret passage where the king’s body had been kept all along. “You - you think you can - does Derek know?”

Stiles winced. “I haven’t exactly - I wanted to talk to you first. To see what you thought about even telling him at all before we tried.”

“Tried what?”

Stiles spun around at the voice and found Derek staring at him, eyebrows drawn together. Parrish stood outside the door, eyes wide, no doubt wanting to stop the prince but also not wanting to deny a royal access to anything. The relationship with Derek and the castle staff was going to be precarious at best for a while, so Stiles supposed he couldn’t blame the guard. But still - it would have probably been simpler to not involve Derek. 

“Tried what?” Derek repeated his question, turning to his mother. “What are you talking about? Mother?”

“Derek, you - you should close the door.”

Derek looked surprised, but turned and nodded at Parrish, who swung the door closed behind him. 

“Sit down, baby,” Talia said, patting the seat next to her. Derek obeyed, eyes darting between Talia and Stiles. 

“What’s going on, Stiles? Mom? Why are you in here? Why - what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Derek, don’t - don’t assume the worst. This is good, actually. It’s - unbelievably good,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair.

“If it works,” Talia murmured. 

“If WHAT works?” Derek asked, sounding annoyed. 

“Okay, yes, sorry, you know how I insisted we bring back the magic water from the pool? Like way too much of it, and you were like why Stiles, and I said because science and threw a bunch of mage bullshit out there?”

“I knew you were just making that up.”

“No you didn’t, but there was actually a bigger reason for that. A better reason and something really big and I - I was just worried that if I told you and it didn’t work it would be worse than not knowing at all, and really - it’s not my secret, it’s -”

“It’s mine,” the queen interrupted. “Come with me, Derek,” she said, standing and going to the door, glancing at Stiles. 

Derek shot a questioning look at Stiles before following his mother, but Stiles just shook his head and followed them out the door. 

The walk to the queen’s chambers was quiet, the echoing of the party a distant hum. Stiles brushed his hand against Derek’s several times before Derek huffed and took it, squeezing once before swinging their hands between them. Stiles glanced back and dared Parrish to comment with a look, but Parrish just smiled at him. It made Stiles blush and he turned back to see Derek smiling at him as well. 

The queen stopped in front of her chamber doors and Parrish jumped forward to open them, and Stiles took a deep breath as he entered the royal quarters for the second time. Derek squeezed his hand again, looking worried. 

Talia went to the wall by her floor length mirror again, pressing in the stone that opened her secret passageway. Derek gasped, and turned to Stiles, brow furrowing as he realized Stiles wasn’t surprised by the opening. 

“Come on,” Stiles said, pulling Derek’s hand as he followed Talia down the staircase, barely lit by the single candle the queen had lit before going down. The three of them walked to the second door and into the small room, which brightened as the queen lit the torch with her candle, just as she had the first time Stiles had been there. 

Instead of looking at the king’s golden form, Stiles watched Derek’s face as he took in the room and the statue, Stiles heart lurching as Derek’s face changed from confusion to utter shock and pain, breathing becoming uneven and hand gripping Stiles’ tightly as he realized what - who - he was looking at. 

“Mom. Mom, is that - is - how -”

“Derek, I’m - I’m sorry. I couldn’t bear to lose him, even if it was just a hollow reminder of who he used to be. I couldn’t - I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you - you knew about this?” Derek turned to Stiles sharply, eyes hard, dropping his hand.

“I - she told me before - a long time ago. I didn’t think you’d want to know. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Well I’m glad you two think you can make decisions for my well being.”

“Derek, that’s not - that’s not what our intention was. Stiles also kept this discreet because it was my secret alone. He’s very loyal.”

Talia sat heavily in the chair across from the king, looking down. 

“Why tell me now?” Derek asked, staring at his father’s figure. 

“Because, Derek, I - I think I can bring him back.”

Derek kept staring at the king, but his posture shifted and shoulders tensed. “The water,” he breathed out, reaching blindly for Stiles’ arm. Stiles caught his hand and slid his arms up Derek’s, wrapping his hands around Derek’s neck, feeling the edge of his hair. Derek tore his gaze away from the king, darting to the queen before settling on Stiles. 

“The curse turned him, same as when it turned me. And I’m standing here breathing again, so why shouldn’t that work for him?”

“But - the pool, you had to submerge -”

“We’ve got to try. But that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. If - if it doesn’t work, I didn’t want you to be disappointed. You’ve been through so much already.”

Derek kissed him lightly on the mouth and then pulled away to drop to his knees in front of his mother. Talia looked up at Derek, and Derek took bother her hands in his. 

“Mom.”

Stiles realized that Talia had silent tears tracking down her face, and he felt like he was intruding on a very private moment. He turned away. 

“Derek, honey, I’m so sorry, I -”

“Mom, it’s okay, I - I understand. But if this - do you want this?”

“Do I _want_ to do this, Derek - do you have any idea - how - of course I want this, I’m just terrified! You - I had accepted that Richard was dead. I - I don’t know how to handle this.”

“Together,” Derek said softly, and Stiles felt his eyes fill up with tears. He wiped quickly at his face and then turned back towards the two, now embracing each other, Derek still on his knees and Talia clinging to her son. 

He waited for another moment before coming forward slowly and placing a hand on Derek’s shoulder. Derek lifted his head and looked up to Stiles.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked?

Derek looked at the queen, who nodded. He looked back at Stiles and said, “Yeah.”

\---------------------------

The three of them didn’t go back to the ballroom but they waited until it was late enough that guests were trickling out of the castle, tipsy and laughing in the evening air. 

Talia had Parrish send for Laura and Cora to join them in her quarters. Stiles had several other guards help him to bring the collected water to the queen’s chambers, lining them against the wall. Derek wanted to help him but honestly couldn’t bring himself to stand from the seat he’d fallen into after he’d emerge from the hallway after the revelation. His father. His _father_. Derek had accepted that he would never see him again years ago, and finally forgiven himself for cursing him when Stiles had entered his life. He’d felt his relationship with his family, especially his mother, had always been strained in some small dark way because of what had happened. Talia herself had never said anything of the sort to him, but his own guilt had eaten away at him over time. 

The sight of his father’s golden form had shocked him to his core, and he felt like he was floating somewhere outside his body, watching Stiles move water across the room, glancing at Derek every few minutes as if to check he was still there. 

He could still very clearly see the day it happened - running to his father, so young and so scared, and feeling the warmth leech out of the king’s leg as he turned to cold, unrelenting gold. The shame, the terrible fear, the knowledge that he had killed his own family. 

But the idea that he could come back? The idea that what had been thought of as an absolute could be reversed? Derek had never believed it could happen. 

Yet, as he was watching Stiles move around the room - he saw absolute reversed before him. Stiles had been turned to gold by the curse. Derek had felt him, lifeless, in his arms. And then Derek had felt him alive again, warm and beautiful. Could it happened a second time? Derek didn’t know if he dared to hope for that much. His life had literally been cursed since birth - there wasn’t a whole lot of reason to put faith in that idea. 

He didn’t notice his sisters enter the room until Laura sat down in front of him, her ballgown ballooning around his knees. 

“Derek? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Mom is acting super weird,” Cora said, standing next to Laura. 

“You would too,” Derek said. “If you knew.”

“Knew what? Tell us what the hell is going on!” Laura said, standing again. 

“Sit down, Laura. Cora. Stop bothering Derek. This is my doing.”

Talia had her hands clasped behind her back, and Stiles was standing against the wall next to the closed secret door. 

Laura sat on the chair next to Derek and Cora leaned against Talia’s desk, both looking expectantly at their mother. 

“Why is Stiles here?” Cora asked, not unkindly. 

“Because he belongs here,” Talia said, and Derek smiled when Stiles looked shocked at her response. 

“I’m sorry that we haven’t spoken about this before. It is my weakness and I thought it foolish and didn’t want to appear that way in front of you, my darlings. Your younger siblings will also be told, but only if this works.”

“Mom -” Laura started, but Talia raised her hand to stop her. 

“We have not spoken often of your father,” she started, and both sisters looked shocked. “His death ruined me in a way I do not like to examine, and talking of him was painful. I do regret this, as he was such a wonderful man and you deserve to know him as I did. Well, now - thanks to Stiles, that may be possible.”

“What do you mean?” Cora asked. 

“Stiles?” Talia asked, turning to him. 

Stiles jumped forwards, wringing his hands and starting to pace. 

“Okay, okay. So you know how Derek - the curse - turned me? And then the magic water turned me back?”

“Yes, we’ve heard the story about a hundred times now,” Laura snarked. Stiles stuck his tongue out at her. Talia cleared her throat. 

“Uhhh yeah, sorry, well. We brought a ton of it back with us, for a very good reason.”

“Which is? Are you ever going to get to the point?” Cora asked. 

“Give him a chance, girls. This is a bit of a shock.”

“WHAT is a but of a shock, mother? What is going on?”

“You’d - probably just come look,” Stiles interjected, pressing the stone in the wall. Derek would never forget the look on his sisters faces when the very wall opened up in a room they’d been in hundreds of times. 

“Stop gaping and let’s go,” Derek said, going towards Stiles. 

“Oh, like you didn’t make the exact same face when she opened that wall,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. 

Derek heard Laura say, “Mom, what the fuck,” under her breath before following him down the stairs. 

Stiles had lit candles along the wall, illuminating the stairs and corridor, and lit torches in the room with the king. Both Laura and Cora stood, speechless as Derek had been, staring at the golden figure. It still hit him in the chest when he looked at his father, and he was sure that his sisters felt the same. 

“Mom -”

“Is that -” 

“Mom why would you have -”

“Is that really -”

“Girls!”

Silence fell and Laura looked back and forth between the statue and Derek, and Cora stared directly at Talia. Stiles held up placating hands. 

“Let’s - keep it calm here. Why don’t you explain, your majesty.”

“Of course. Yes, Laura, that is your father.”

“Mom, why in the gods name would you ever -”

“Like actually dad? Like that’s his actual body? Why did you KEEP it, he’s - he’s -”

“He’s dead. Yes, that’s what everyone thought. That’s what I told myself. But I couldn’t - I couldn’t make myself leave him. It didn’t matter that he was gone, I couldn’t let him go completely. I had to - but that’s why I never told you. It was foolish and weak and I couldn’t -”

“Mom, stop. It’s not - weak, it’s understandable. I just - I just don’t know why you’re telling us now?” Laura said, wrapping her hands around Talia’s arm. 

“They’re going to change him back,” Cora whispered, staring at Stiles. “Just like Stiles.”

“Yes, Cora, that’s exactly what we’re going to try and do.” Talia squeezed Laura’s hands and then pulled away, walking towards the king, reverently touching his hand.

“Will - will that work?” Laura asked. 

“We don’t know for sure. But we’re going to try,” Stiles said. “That’s why we need your help.”

Laura stood up, and after a moment, wiped her eyes and walked to her mother, taking Talia’s hand. 

“Do you think it’ll work, mom?”

“Oh - Laura. I don’t know. I can’t - I’m scared to hope. It’s been so long.”

“Well. Let’s find out.”

All eyes turned to Stiles, who flashed a determined look at the king. 

“Okay, let’s do this.”

______________________

The logistics of submerging the king in water as Stiles had been were complicated, so the group of them decided that they would try bringing the king up to the royal chambers and put him in Talia’s huge bathtub, filling it up with the enchanted water and hoping for the best. 

Getting the king’s form up the stairs proved difficult, even with all five of them contributing because no one wanted to look directly at him and the stairs were very, very, narrow. If it had been anything else they were trying to move, Stiles would have been unable to stifle the bubble of amusement that rose in his chest - trying to move a cumbersome object with practically the entire royal family up a dark, narrow staircase in secret. He caught Laura’s eyes over the king’s hip at one point, and the secret smile they shared made him think she had similar thoughts. 

They made it up, eventually, and gently lifted the king into Talia’s tub - he wasn’t as heavy as one would have expected, but it wasn’t exactly easy, either. The hollow sounding ‘clang’ that echoed when they released him made Stiles wince, but it was done. They worked together to bring the barrels closer to the tub. Once everything was in place, Stiles nodded at Derek, who popped open the cork on a barrel and lifted it up, pouring the water over the king’s body. The tub filled steadily, Laura and Cora lifting a barrel together, Stiles helping the queen with her own. Once all the water was in the tub, only king’s nose poked out, a tip of gold in crystal clear water. 

“That - it won’t work unless he’s completely covered, right?” Laura asked, looking to Derek.

“I - I don’t know.”

Stiles knew he had to do something, so he kneeled next to the tub and placed both hands on the side, beginning a chant Deaton had taught him pretty early on in his magical training. The spell was to control elements, and in this case - water. Stiles concentrated on bringing some of the water up, completely covering the king’s face. He felt Derek’s hand on his shoulder, and the tension in the room rose as the water did, until the king was covered, head to toe - even his regal nose. 

Stiles held the shape of the water, breathing hard, and they waited. Stiles knew he couldn’t hold the form forever, and prayed to whatever gods may still listen to him that this would work. If not for Derek - for Talia, who had lost as much, fi not more, than Derek due to the Midas curse.

One moment the room was still, the only sound Stiles’ harsh breathing, and the next water sloshed all around and there was another full clang as the king fell from his frozen form into animated existence once more. Talia cried out, rushing forwards and Stiles fell to the ground, exhausted by the spell and wanting to get out of the way of the family reunited. The queen literally climbed into the tub to embrace her husband, who was clinging to her desperately, both covered in water and crying. Laura and Cora fell into the water in their haste as well, and all four barely fit into the tub, laughter and sobbing mixed together in the room. 

Derek had stayed back, hesitant, shock and fear all over his face. Stiles slowly stood, going to Derek’s side and pushing him towards his family. Derek moved as if in a trance, slowly and unsure, but steadily forward. 

“Talia, my love - my love - Laura, is that you? Gods you’re so beautiful. Cora! Cora you’re grown so tall! And regal! How are these my little girls? How - you - Derek, where is Derek?”

The king’s voice was rough, but as strong sounding as Stiles remembered it. Derek kneeled at the side of the tub, staring at his father, silent tears in his eyes. 

“Father - I’m so sorry, I -”

“Shh,” Richard said, pulling Derek to him until they were embracing, Derek’s face buried in the king’s neck. Stiles felt that, yet again, he was witnessing a private moment, so he stood to leave. 

“And who is this?”

The king’s voice stopped him in his tracks, and he looked back to see sharp eyes on him, assessing. It was truly remarkable how similar he looked to Derek, the only major difference being the thick beard across his face. Derek lifted his head and looked at Stiles with watery eyes, the three Hale women also now staring at Stiles, tear and enchanted water covering their faces. 

“Richard, this - this is Stiles Stilinski. He’s a guard - and so much more than that. He’s the one that made us able to break the curse. And he’s Derek’s - Derek and Stiles -”

“He’s the man I love, dad. More than anything.”

Stiles felt his own eyes fill at Derek’s words, and he gave him a soft smile. 

“What kind of name is Stiles?” The king asked, and Talia smacked his shoulder, but Stiles recognized the teasing glint in his eyes - Derek often had given him the same look. 

“With all due respect, your majesty, you can take it up with Captain Stilinski, as it was all his doing in the first place.”

“You - You’re John’s son?” He asked, smiling wide. “Of course. Of course! You look so much like Claudia. I should have guessed.”

With some convincing, the king was able to remove himself from the embrace of his wife and daughters, and stood, stepping out of the bathtub and dripping all over the stone floor. 

“Well, Stiles, if you’re to be part of this family, then I see no reason why you shouldn’t be soaking wet as well,” Richard said before surprising Stiles with a huge bear hug. Stiles laughed as he returned the embrace, and the Hale children came around them, Talia hugging her husband’s back until they were in a dripping wet, giggling and sniffling huddle. 

“Why are we all covered in water, anyway?” The King asked, pulling back enough to look Stiles in the face. Stiles laughed, turned over his shoulder to kiss Derek’s cheek, and felt happier than he could ever remember feeling. 

\----------------

It took a lot of explaining and some apologizing to get all the information across to the king. After they’d all changed into dry clothes, the queen had had a small meal brought to her rooms and the six of them arranged themselves in a loose circle in her main room. Stiles had protested at first, saying that it wasn’t proper for him to be in the queen’s personal chambers, but Derek had dragged him inside anyway. He had made Stiles sit in a chair while Derek sat on the floor in front of him, loving the way Stiles absentmindedly played with the back of his hair. 

Talia and Richard were both on her love seat, Talia practically in her husband’s lap, Laura and Cora on the floor with Derek, sprawled out at their parent’s feet. 

It was late, and they had all been up for far too long, but no one seemed in a hurry to leave. Richard was endlessly amused by the tales of his children’s childhood - things he had missed out on. It was melancholy to say the least, and the story of Derek’s isolation made him look so devastated that Derek had to go over and embrace him - which lasted for several minutes. The story of Stiles’ involvement made the king laugh, and Derek made sure he told as many embarrassing things as he could to make Stiles blush as long as possible. 

There were doubtlessly hundreds of questions that Richard wanted to ask, but as the night waxed on their energy and wakefulness waned. Soon enough Talia stood, pulling Richard with her into their bedroom, and Stiles left with Derek, Laura, and Cora. They went their separate ways, the girls to their chambers and Stiles and Derek to Derek’s room in the west tower. Derek had felt nothing but sleep and contentment while in his parent’s - his reunited parent’s - room, but climbing the stairs the stress of the day seemed to settle on his breastbone, overwhelming him once more. So much had happened in such a short period of time, Derek didn’t know how to bear it all. He clung tightly to Stiles’ hand until they reached the room, and Stiles closed the door behind him. Derek fell into Stiles’ arms, pushing them against the closed door as he tried to just breath and hold himself together a little longer, pushing his face into Stiles’ neck. Stiles took his weight easily, hands roaming over his back, murmuring nonsense about things being all right and just needing to sleep.

“I’m sorry, Stiles, I’m - I’m sorry,” Derek whispered, and the hands on his back froze. 

“Der, why are you saying sorry to me?”

 

“I - you changed my dad back, but I - I turned your mom. You could have saved -”

“Hey, no,” Stiles said, pushing at Derek until he could look him in the eyes. “Nobody knew about that then. You couldn’t - you need to stop blaming yourself for all of this Derek. You didn't’ turn my mother, the curse did. Katherine did. Sure, I wish I could bring her back, but - it’s been so long. I’ve accepted it and there’s no use feeling guilt over it anymore. Derek, I - I love you so much. So damn much. There is no blame for you to shoulder. I’m just so happy that I was able to give you back your family. To give you some - some sort of happiness after being miserable so long.”

“I haven’t been miserable since I met you,” Derek said, tracing a finger across Stiles’ jaw. Stiles smiled and turned to kiss his hand. 

“Let’s go to bed, baby,” Stiles said, and Derek nodded heavily. 

They undressed clumsily, both exhausted, and when they fell into Derek’s bed, Stiles wrapped himself around Derek, inhaling deeply. Derek couldn’t hold it in anymore and just started crying - crying for Stiles, for his father, his mother, his sisters - his little siblings that had had so much stolen from them, for himself - for all of those before him. He cried himself into sleep, falling into darkness with the soft whisper of Stiles’ telling him he loves him in his ear. 

\------------------------  
\------------------------  
\------------------------

_Epilogue:_

“You know pacing isn’t actually going to help.”

Derek glared at Stiles, who was draped across a chair in the hall, and continued pacing. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and kept pulling at his weaving, trying to balance it on his chest without falling out of the chair. They had been waiting in the hall for about three hours without a word, Derek going between pacing and sitting, tapping his foot and asking a hundred questions that Stiles did not have the answers to. He’d given up telling Derek to chill out - it was no use. They’d actually been kicked out of the room because Derek was making everyone crazy with his worry.

The door next to Stiles swung open, startling him, and he fell out of the chair as Derek rushed forward, completely ignoring him in favor of talking to Deaton. 

“Some fiance,” Stiles mumbled, standing and brushing his knees off. Derek barely spared him a glance, but Stiles supposed he could be forgiven this once. 

“How is she? Is everything - is it -”

“Everything is fine. She’s doing very well, and the baby is healthy.”

“Is it -”

“It’s a boy. And he doesn’t carry the curse. The line has been broken.”

Derek sagged in relief against the door frame, and Stiles wrapped an arm around his waist. 

“Come on, honey-Der, let’s go meet your nephew.”

“Don’t call me that,” Derek growled, but practically ran into the room.

“He’s so beautiful, Cora,” Laura was saying as they came into the room, and Derek sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the bundle in Cora’s arms. 

Stiles came up behind Derek, winking at Laura. The king and queen were in the room too, sitting next to Cora’s bed on the other side, Richard rubbing her foot. Isaac was at the foot of her bed, trying not to cry. 

Cora smiled at Derek and handed the baby over, despite his hesitation. Derek took the boy gingerly and cradled him in both arms, staring down at his face. The baby reached a hand up and grabbed onto Derek’s shirt, and Derek huffed a laugh. Stiles leaned down and bopped the baby’s nose, grinning at him. 

“He’s perfect, Cor,” Derek said softly. Isaac crawled up the bed and collapsed across Cora’s stomach, who groaned, but then carded her fingers through his curly hair. The baby had wisps of Isaac’s golden hair, but the trade-mark Hale eyes - sharp and swirling with colors. 

_Oh man, I want one,_ Stiles thought, but when Derek turned to look at him with wide eyes, he realized he’d actually spoken aloud. 

“Me first! It’s not fair that Cora got married AND had a baby before me anyway, not you too!” Laura said, trying to sound put out. 

“Well if you’d stop dancing around Jordan already, maybe you’d be in the same boat!” Cora said, and Laura stuck her tongue out at her. “Or Lydia, either one.” Laura blushed deeply and shoved her sister’s shoulder. 

“Ooooooh,” Stiles said. “Looks like the secret is out.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“Stop fighting, children - this is supposed to be about Cora. And little - what’s his name, Cora?” Talia reached for the baby and Derek handed him over gently. 

Isaac looked up at Cora, and Cora smiled down at her husband. 

“We were thinking of Andrew Richard.”

Talia and Richard both looked up from their grandson, startled expressions on their faces. 

“Who’s Andrew?” Stiles whispered to Derek.

“Andrew was - was my brother. Who died because of the curse,” Talia answered, still staring at her daughter. 

“It seemed fitting to name the first son after the curse was lifted after him,” Isaac explained, burying his face back into Cora’s chest.

“And Richard, of course. It is traditional for a royal son to be named after the current king,” Cora said to her father.

“Not current for long,” Laura said, spinning around. “You’ve got another two years and then I’m in charge.” Richard rolled his eyes.

“God help us all,” Derek said, making everyone laugh. 

And so began the first generation of Hales, of the descendants of Midas, to not be cursed with a golden touch. The Hale children each had children with their respective partners, through biology and magic, and the kingdom prospered. Talia and Richard lived long and full lives, taking long rides on horseback and avoiding as much of court life as they could in order to make up for lost time. Stephan and Danielle were distant and hesitant around both their father and their brother at first, but the family quickly warmed up and became a loving, practical inseparable unit in no time. Stiles was accepted into the fold like he had always been there, and he loved the feeling of a big family. His father was also reunited with one of his best friends and John and Richard spent long hours together training and playing with their grandchildren, complaining of old age and pulling pranks on their children.

Stiles and Derek were married shortly after Andrew’s birth, and moved into the prince’s suit in the royal chambers after a long, lingering goodbye to the room in the west tower. Derek still went up there sometimes to think, even in old age. Stiles went on to become the most desired mage in all the known kingdoms. Derek took his time relearning court life, and finally was able to throw away his gloves 3 years after the curse was broken. It was an emotional and freeing moment for both him and his husband. 

Erica and Boyd were married not two months after the journey to break the curse, and Scott and Allison followed shortly after. Stiles eventually coerced his father to ask Melissa to marry him, and they had a small ceremony in the castle courtyard. All of the marriages included pastries from Erica’s bakery.

Stiles occasionally had visions of the future, sometimes important and sometimes just in passing. He kept a dream journal next to his mother’s by his bedside.

Matt Daehler was released from service after an unfortunate incident with a heirloom tapestry. Stiles didn’t even pretend to be disappointed to see him go. 

They door that that Derek had changed when he was a child was imprinted with a plaque, describing the events of the curse and how it was broken, dedicated to Claudia and Paige. Every time Derek passed the door, he brushed his hand across it and smiled.

Deaton lived longer than anyone else in this story, and is probably still out there, making annoyingly vague comments and generally being a little shit.

\-------  
\-------

Some say it was a gift. 

Others say it was a curse. 

What the legends don’t tell is that the prayer had been both for Midas and his son - and his son after that - going down the line hundreds of years and generations, bequeathing the gift upon every first born son like a double-edged sword. 

But generations later, a prince and a mage traveled to find the cure - the enchanted pool of stars and the dark mage who had cast the curse in the first place. They broke the curse and restored the Midas line, making the kingdom one without secrets and fear for the first time in decades. 

Thus, a lonely prince and a magical guard met, fell in love, changed everything together, and lived happily ever after. 

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you. Like holy shit thank you. This is the biggest thing I've ever written and I love it and I love that you love it. I hope I met your expectations and you liked the ending as much as I did. Please let me know what you think. 
> 
> I love you dearly, come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.red--city.tumblr.com) if you feel. 
> 
> And if anybody wants more headcanons/answers, totally ask - I live to please. To clarify just a few - 
> 
> Stiles asked Derek to marry him. Derek cried.  
> Laura ended up with whoever you want - Lydia or Parrish. Or both.  
> Cora carried Stiles and Derek's children.  
> King Richard had been aware of Talia while he was frozen, but it was subtle and fuzzy, just like Stiles described. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he aged as he would have normally. (Don't ask me how that works.) He and Talia ended up with 11 grandchildren, dispersed through their various children.  
> Erica and Boyd had like 6 beautiful dark skinned babies and made loads of pastries and were ALIVE AND HAPPY. Same with Allison and Scott. So many pretty babies. So many.  
> Katherine was never heard of or written about again after the account of Derek and Stiles at the pool.  
> Derek and Stiles had lots and lots of sex. Like. An annoying amount. Derek found out he had a biting kink, which was a fun week (year) ((life)) for both of them.
> 
> I LOVE YOU BYE


End file.
